Birds of Bewilderment
by Charlie Grayson
Summary: A new vigilante comes to Gotham for unknown reasons, and Batgirl winds up being the one to keep him in line. Struggling to unravel the mystery of the Red Hood, while also struggling to unravel the mystery of her new roommate Jason, Barbara is beginning to feel like something bigger is going on.
1. Chapter 1

Jason sighed, a light breeze carrying a puff of his breath away with it. The small cloud slowly dispersed through the night air, fading away as if it had never even been there. Said breeze was chilling against his pale skin, and he probably should've kept his helmet on. But, Jason surprisingly enjoyed the sensation of cold air nipping at his flesh. Roy thought he was crazy, at which point Jason reminded him that his protection against the elements was a trucker's hat and a tank top. But as the wind started to pick up the cold got too much to bear, even for Jason's undead skin. Breathing one last puff of frigid air, his helmet slid back into place.

"Hell of a view," he mumbled to himself. "Isn't it, Batgirl?" His voice rose now above audible levels.

Without even looking, he could tell he'd surprised her. Obviously, she'd been trained by the Batman. It showed in her abilities to be unseen and unheard. But, unbeknownst to her, Jason had also been trained by the Batman. Her cape gave her away, the faint sound of dragging against the concrete roof. But as if he hadn't been sure, she gasped slightly when he called to her.

Jason stood from where he sat on the edge of the rooftop, turning just as she came out of hiding. Even from this distance, Red Hood could see that she was taller than expected. From the way she was standing, and the way she moved, he knew she was extremely powerful for someone her size. Strong, durable muscles moved gracefully beneath all her layers of Kevlar. Almost as experienced as he was, would be his guess. Jason had heard many rumors about what shade her hair was. Someone once said it was blonde. Roy told him once that it was red. Newspapers had one published photos of a Batgirl who didn't even have hair coming out of her cowl. Roy seemed to be right, in this instance, as Batgirl's hair was long and red and flowing over her shoulder. Another thing Jason had assumed incorrectly: he always thought Batgirl's cowl would be similar to Batman's, with the lenses over her eyes. Instead, the Red Hood was looking straight into the bright blue gaze of one of his former mentor's new partners.

"Why are you in Gotham, Hood?" Her tone was bland, monotone. But in it there was an underlying threat, something in her voice that was fierce. _I'll take you down_ , she seemed to say. And, sure, she could try. But _no one_ took down the Red Hood.

He simply shrugged. "Why wouldn't I be with a view like this?" His arm was horizontal now, gesturing out towards the city beneath their feet.

Those fierce, blue eyes narrowed, the face behind them hadn't changed at all since Jason had first looked at it. "You know Batman doesn't approve of your methods," she said. There was that underlying threat once more, that little hint in her voice that was intended to put Jason on edge. In reality, rather than bringing him goosebumps it only made him chuckle. Her body language was certainly supportive of the threat. But, again, **no one** takes down the Red Hood. "We don't want you here."

"How could I resist?!" He shouted out to Gotham's rooftops. His arms were waving and he was teetering precariously on his heels, his back to Batgirl as he took in the incredible view once more. "You're crime rate is among the highest in the world."

Turning back towards his enemy, he found that her posture had tensed up from her original stance of relaxed-but-could-pounce-at-any-moment. Now, her body language was saying something more along the lines of not-relaxed-still-wanna-punch-you-in-the-face. "Why does a hired gun care about Gotham's crime rates?"

Jason's fingers found his guns holstered on his hips. Even through his gloves, he could feel every curve and crevice. His arms were slack, the weight of the limbs completely resting on the guns beneath his fingertips. Every move he did was calculated, because he knew that it was probable that Batman was watching him. If not, Batgirl would go back and report to him every detail. He wanted every ounce of him to get his message across. "I have some assets to protect, let's just say that."

His own voice had lowered to a strange rumble, his own threat hidden in the words. _If you mess with me, you will regret it._

Once more, Batgirl tensed. This time, Red Hood swore he heard her teeth crack in her mouth. "You're relocation isn't permanent, Red. As soon as bodies start dropping, we _will_ take you down."

A few specs of gravel moved across the rooftop, force to uproot by the toe of his boot. He had relaxed now, feeling like Batgirl received his message. "So Batsy," he began, his eyes low, watching the gravel move with each absent minded kick. "Do you deliver all his messages or just to the villains he doesn't want to face?"

Their eyes didn't need to meet for him to know that he'd hit a nerve. She had to be fuming at this point, but she was hiding it well.

"Do you always lash out when you're scared?"

He froze mid-kick, and let out a laugh. Not like a chuckle, or a scoff, but real laughter. He was laughing so hard he almost doubled over, actually. His hand was on his abdomen now, fingertips just barely touching the hidden knife on his inside coat pocket and the fabric of his gloves scraping the fabric of his armor. If anything, his laughter had only worsened her anger. "I've taken on so much worse than some guy with a couple of brainwashed kids in their jammies. **No one** takes down the Red Hood."

Seemingly in seconds, her anger melted away. But he could see through it, see that she was only trying to make it _look_ like it had melted away. Her eyes traveled up and down his body, and if he didn't know any better, he would think she was undressing him with her eyes. But within her blue irises burned hatred, not lust. "I could," her smirking lips whispered. Her voice oozed with confidence, every syllable dripping with misplaced pride. "It'd be easy." Her playful tone and mischievous expression gave hints that she did indeed have a personality underneath that mask.

Rather than reply, Jason laughed. He hung his arms by grasping the edges of his jacket, and turned on his heel to leave.

But – as predicted – he heard the telltale sign of a cape rustling in the wind. In mere milliseconds, Jason had caught a fist flying towards the back of his skull. Batgirl looked genuinely shocked for a brief second before he had wrapped one hand around her wrist and placed the other on her stomach. His shoulders rotated to strange angles as they lifted her body up and slammed her down once more – she was heavier than she looked. Most probably due to the muscles. Still holding her wrist, he forced it back and up, twisting her arm into a chicken wing hold and planting his knee firmly on her back to hold her down.

Red Hood had effectively taken Batgirl's ambush attack and turned it on her.

He was close enough now that he could get a better idea of her appearance and her body. Her long red hair cascaded over her cape, dampened with the humidity in the air. It smelt of coconut shampoo, and mixed with the scents of sweat and Kevlar. Feeling her beneath him confirmed the earlier assumption about her incredible muscles. They were straining beneath him, only needing momentum to push him off of her and regain the upper hand. Her head was turned so that he could see her cheek and one of her eyes, and just barely the other cheek squished against the gravel. It was adorable – he could even make out a few of her freckles, giving her a childlike appearance.

The childlike appearance was quickly ruined when he focused his attention on the seething expression she currently wore.

"I guess it wasn't as easy as you thought, huh, Bats?" He whispered in her ear.

The way his voice rumbled throughout his chest and muffled beneath his helmet made her cringe beneath him. A small chuckle at the way she flinched only made her cringe once more. Her skin was crawling, and her poker face had faded long ago.

Pushing harder than he needed to, he stood up and ran towards the edge in one fluid motion. Before he leapt off, he paused and looked at her, if only for half of a second. As she began to stand, however, the ground disappeared beneath his feet and air was the only thing separating him from the ground below.

"Leave me alone, Batgirl! I'm just doing my job!"

Whether his voice reached her on the roof was unknown to Jason, as he had already fallen at least four stories. But something about the fact that Batgirl didn't fling herself over the roof to chase him made him believe that he'd gotten his point across.

 _ ***********LINE BREAKER!************_

The window to her bedroom was still open, letting in the chilling autumn breeze and surprisingly bright moonlight. Pale moonlight mixed with blue artificial light from her TV as it cascaded across the room. She was side-eyeing the evening news, ensuring she hadn't missed anything, but mostly Barbara Gordon stood in the doorway to her closet, peeling off her suit. As the tight fabric left her skin, she ran her fingertips across the angry red patterns that danced across her body.

Now only in her bra and underwear, Barbara hung her suit on her forearm and moved all the clothes in her closet to the right to expose the drywall behind. To the untrained eye, it was just an ordinary wall. But as soon as Barbara had gotten this apartment, she'd had a month to make the necessary changes before her roommate arrived from New York. There was a small part of the drywall in the upper right hand corner that looked just like normal drywall. Barbara pressed her thumb to it and it lit up, revealing a hidden finger print scanner. After a moment of scanning, the screen turned green in approval and the wall slid away easily.

Climbing through her closet, Barbara entered the hidden room. It was roughly the size of a small bathroom (because maybe someone had turned the master bathroom into a hidden room maybe not who knows) and one entire wall was completely covered with computer screens. Another wall had a rack full of various Batgirl suits, along with a shelf with boots and utility belts.

She placed her dirty suit in the laundry basket underneath her computer desk. This basket she _only_ washed at the Manor, because unlike her other clothes, a laundromat would be just too risky for bystanders. Taking a deep sigh, Barbara stretched her limbs to keep her muscles loose, then flinched at the sudden pain between her shoulder blades. Curiosity struck her, and her arm twisted around behind her back to prod gently at the sore flesh.

 _Of course_.

There was a small bruise on her back where the Red Hood had pushed her down.

Thinking about it set a fire in her lungs. She'd made a rookie mistake, gotten too cocky and mouthed off to someone she knew next to nothing about. With no idea what to expect, how to react, or his skills, it was no wonder the Hood had taken Batgirl down so easily. Batman probably already knew about the incident, but he hadn't yet contacted her. Hopefully, Dick didn't know, because this was something that her friend would never let her live down, despite him knowing how dangerous the Hood was firsthand.

She loathed the murderous vigilante, even though it was her own foolishness that had allowed him to be taken down. His entire existence bothered her. He was cocky, arrogant, mysterious, and annoying. Worst yet, he killed people on the regular and he acted like it was all just a big game.

Her rookie mistake would _not_ be repeated.

Running her hands over her skin once more, she exhaled deeply and walked out of her small, hidden closet. One her way out, her free hand swiped up a pair of sweatpants and a loose fitting tank top. Hastily putting it on, she rand some hands through her cowl hair, before deciding that she better just put it up. Can't have her new roommate wondering how her hair gets so matted down all the time.

Especially when he was so cute.

Said cute roommate was dozing on the couch as Barbara walked from her door towards the kitchen. "Hey," she said casually, glancing over her shoulder at the body occupying the couch.

He sat up, running his hand through his patch of white hair with an exhausted grin on his face. "It's three in the morning," he said, his voice cracking with drowsiness. "Where have you been, missy?"

Barbara couldn't stifle a laugh. "In my room, ya ditz." Her voice was muffled slightly, her face buried in a cabinet as she reached for a mug. "You had to have heard me, I had the TV on super loud."

Now his hulking form was in the kitchen doorway, arms raised above his head and hanging lazily from the doorframe. He was shirtless, and every movement put his exquisite muscles on display. It required an embarrassing amount of effort to not gape at him. "I've been in and out all night," he said. Then his smirk was back and he had a mischievous glint in his eye. "Criminal Minds puts me to sleep."

Again, Barbara laughed and put a pot on the stove to prepare herself some tea. "Jason, I refuse to believe you've been asleep for four hours since I got home." She crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly extremely aware of how much the action pushed her breasts together.

He caught her gaze from the side, smirking as if he had some huge secret. "I mean, I went out for a little bit." A shrug while he spoke flexed his muscles once more, and now Barbara's eyes couldn't help but wander across his physique. She at least had the control to keep it to a minimum, only when he looked away.

Moments passed and the silence built. Barbara caught his eye once, turning upwards at the same moment as hers. Perhaps, while she was checking him out, he was also checking her out?

Just when she thought the room couldn't get any more silent (or tense) the teapot screamed and Barbara turned to pour her beverage. "You want some?" she asked over her shoulder. Before he replied, she pulled another mug down from the cabinet and filled it with tea as well. The teapot was hot, so she placed it on the backburner and hoisted herself up on the countertop, sipping her mug as she did so. "So you find a job yet?" she asked.

He finished his own sip before responding. "Yeah, actually." His smirk had shapeshifted into a genuine smile that crinkled his nose and lit his eyes. "I start tomorrow." The tone of voice he used was dripping with pride, and Barbara couldn't help but think of what a dork he was. A huge, hulking dork.

"Where at?" she chuckled to herself.

"I'm working the corner."

Barbara almost spit out her drink, trying to swallow as quickly as she could so that she could laugh freely. Obviously, it was a joke. Though, he could make damn good money as a stripper, or even a prostitute if he was feeling scandalous. They laughed together for a moment, their bodies shaking and tea getting dangerously close to spilling out of their respective mugs.

"Nah," Jason said easily. "There are a few warehouses downtown that I'll take turns watching. Usually nights, but sometimes I'll work a morning if one of the other guys needs a shift covered." He took a slow sip, and Barbara somehow felt magnetized to his bright green eyes. "Trying to get that overtime." His smile was beautiful, honestly. Stretching across his face in a genuine and delicate way, lighting the room with his brilliant white teeth. "But I start tomorrow, and its pretty good money."

"Proud of you, Jay," Barbara said over the rim of her mug. Her words seemed to only make his smile grow.

"Thanks, Barbie."

"Although," she said, swallowing the last of her tea. "As you so eloquently put it, it's past three in the morning and I also work tomorrow." Her mug clinked against the metal when she put it in the sink, Jason's mug quickly following suit. "So I'm going to go to bed."

"Yeah, me too." Jason said. "Training is bright and early," he paused, waiting for her to look at him once more. "Ten o'clock." Had Barbara not been looking at his face, she easily would've been able to _hear_ his smirk. "Goodnight, Barbie," he said, standing in his doorway, facing her as she stood in her doorway.

She smiled, closing her door. Just before the opening shut, she called out to him, "Night, Jay."

 _ ************LINE BREAKER!************_

 **Ta da! First chapter of my multi-chapter fic featuring JayBabs, because there aren't enough fics out there. Let me know what you think, but I'm so excited about this I already planned on a sequel.**


	2. Chapter 2

"Have you lived here all your life, Jerry?" he asked, masked eyes turned upwards. Through the skyscrapers, you could see the thick blanket of dark sky covering the city, though not a single star was visible. He looked down at the knife in his hand, running the pad of his thumb over the blade. "I was born here, but I've done quite a bit of traveling." He turned now to the sweaty man, pinned to the alley wall via Red Hood's other knives. "I spent a few years on a mountain top. You know, learning how to be an assassin. The stars are _so_ much prettier out there."

Suddenly, the air was whizzing as a knife sliced through it, heading towards Jerry's head almost too fast to see. With a _clang_ , it jabbed into the brick less than a centimeter from flesh.

Jerry had maybe half a second to process the new weapon by his head before something hard rammed into his gut and he was forced to stare into white lenses. "Jerry, I'd love to look up at the stars with you all night, but I've got a problem." Jerry's breath was fogging up against the red helmet in front of his face. "My problem is this: I can't enjoy a romantic night like this with you while I'm thinking about all the horrible things your boss is doing right now."

Now, the Hood was pressing the tip of yet another knife into Jerry's jugular, and despite the situation, Jerry had to wonder where the man was stashing all these blades.

"So, you pick, Jerry." Moving lips were unseen, but the voice behind the mask was gravelly and full of hate. "Would you like to continue date night with me, or would you like me to keep thinking about those horrible things?"

Accidentally, Jerry gulped. The muscles in his throat moving beneath his skin, pushing painfully into the dagger.

Hood was growing impatient. But he had to admit, it was pretty funny to watch Jerry squirm. Poor, stupid Jerry had been the only one left standing when the Red Hood crashed the party at an arms deal, making Jerry the go-to date for the prom. He then used the unsold crates of weapons to subdue the piteous man here and ruthlessly interrogate him. But so far, he'd gotten nothing out of him.

"Wow," Hood said, spinning the blade in place against the skin. "The longer I think, the more _**horrific**_ the thoughts get." As he emphasized the word, he dug the knight deeper into the skin. A small drop of blood formed beneath the tip, slowly crawling down Jerry's neck. "Better put my mind at ease, before the evening is completely ruined."

Jerry made a sort of gurgling noise from the back of his throat. "I'll talk, just be cool, man!" His voice was especially raspy. "Gotham's next crime family, up and coming, they said. I don't know the old man's name, but his grandson is Louis Ramos. He's the guy all us low levels take our orders from."

Red Hood backed up, taking his knife with him. "He sounds like fun. Where can I find him?" The sleek metal made a soft sound as the anti-hero slid it back into its sheath.

"I don't know, man." Lie.

Jerry's face scrunched up in pain and he screamed out as a gloved hand twisted the knife in his shoulder. "Let me know when it comes back to you."

Through clenched teeth, Jerry muttered, "I really don't, man! I'm just a low level. I don't know much, man!"

Giving the knife one more gut-wrenching twist, Hood released it. "Couple things, Jerry." He pulled the knife out of the left shoulder, wiping the blood off on Jerry's already bloody tee shirt. "First, my name's not 'man'. My name's Red Hood." Moving down, he ripped the knives out of Jerry's calves as well. "Remember that, I'm about to get real popular." With every blade yanked out of his body, a small yelp of pain made it out passed his lips. "Second, you're going to have to get a higher pain tolerance if you're going to pursue this career. People – myself included – will beat you up _a lot_." He wedged the blade out of the brick next to Jerry's head.

When Hood stepped back once more, the only knife remaining in Jerry's body was the one pinning his right shoulder to the bricks behind him. The man's eyes were glassy, half closed, and droopy. Pain nearly had him unconscious.

Hood backed up some more, watching Jerry teeter on the edge of blissful sleep. "Lastly – look up, you're gonna wanna hear this." Jerry's head limply moved towards his captor, struggling to stay awake. His eyes shot open when he found he was staring down the barrel of a hand gun. "I believe you, thanks for the name though."

 _ **BANG!**_

No more than a millisecond before he pulled the trigger, a flying projectile knocked the gun out of his hand. His bullet was only an inch or two off target, and Jerry was thankful. "I had a feeling you were going to show up at some point."

Silent to all but Hood, a cape fluttered as the neck it wrapped around sank to ground level from the rooftop above. Out of the shadows, two pointy ears and squinting white eyes glared at the scene before him. The Red Hood returned his gun to its holster, pulling the final knife out of Jerry and letting the man sink to the ground. The combination of shock, pain, and blood loss had his eyes spinning. Hood kneed him in the face, knocking him out cold.

"Cops are on the way?" he asked the large figure in the shadows.

The pointed ears moved, signaling a nod. "Follow me. We need to talk."

"Of course we do," Hood sighed. Telling himself it was purely out of curiosity – despite knowing it was something else entirely – he followed up to the rooftop.

They move away from the bloody scene, grappling up to the roof and swinging between buildings until they were at least a few miles away from the interrogation alley. Tension in the air builds, both waiting for something to happen. Two hands fidget near separate utility belts, begging for a reason to pull out a weapon of some sort.

Finally, "Jason, why are you here?"

"Cause you asked me to follow you, Bruce."

Jason could see the way Batman's jaw clenched. The sarcasm he one found endearing had turned to a nuisance. Behind the smugness, it actually stung Jason a bit, and he found himself thanking his helmet for masking his face. "You know what I mean." Batman stepped toward the younger hero, sweeping his cape out of habit. "Why are you here, in Gotham?"

Hood moved his hands away from his utility belt, trying to appear more relaxed. "Let's just say business."

The ghost of a smirk appeared on the Batman's lips, one that Jason had only seen many, many years ago. "You're investigating the Ramos family." It wasn't a question, and he slowly realized that the Red Hood's activities had been monitored for a while now. His mind flitted briefly to Barbara, hoping that the Batman would leave her out of this.

"If you've got all the answers, why did you bother talking to me?" His arms crossed as the words left his mouth, and though Bruce showed no signs of being affected by the words, he could tell they did.

At least a little.

The Batman stepped closer once again, but this time Jason stepped back. He ground his jaw a big tighter, but took no more steps. "Jason," he started. Only now he wasn't using his scary Bat voice.

This was not the voice he used to strike fear into the hearts of criminals. No, this was the voice that Bruce Wayne used when his son was being difficult in school and he'd been explaining why he _couldn't_ call his teacher a 'fuck ass' for embarrassingly long and he just wanted Jason to do as he was told just this once. This was the voice he'd used when he'd retired Jason from being Robin, shortly before Jason ran away and did it anyway. This was the voice he'd used when he was trying to find the words and he just couldn't.

"Jason," he said again.

Behind the cowl, Jason wondered what his eyes looked like. The permanently angry look of the Batman didn't match with the fatherly tone of Bruce Wayne. Suddenly steeling himself, Red Hood tightened his arms across his chest. "Don't 'Jason' me, Bruce."

"Is your stay here going to be more permanent?" Batman's cape fell gracefully over his shoulder, hiding everything from the shoulders down. He was a floating shadow, formidable even from this distance.

Darkness enveloping him almost completely, Batman seemed more in his element than the Red Hood. "I'll be around. You better get used to seeing me." His voice was full of disdain, sarcasm, and smugness.

"Your room at the Manor is still open, you know."

These words took Jason aback. He'd been expecting 'get out of my city' not 'come home Alfred and I miss you'. He wasn't sure whether his heart skipped a beat or his stomach churned in his belly, either way he felt nauseous for at least two seconds. "Wouldn't your new kid feel a little crowded if the original came knocking?" All he could hope for was that he'd hit a nerve. "Besides, I got a place of my own, thank you very much."

Bruce was gone now, only Batman stood before him. "I want you to be careful what you do in my city, Hood." His lips almost curled, as if the words tasted sour on his tongue. "I didn't appreciate your last killing spree, and I won't tolerate another one."

"I'm not nearly as scary sounding when I give the lecture, but I definitely already gave this particular scum bag the wrap."

The new voice actually surprised him. Focusing so hard on Batman's words and actions had made it difficult to keep his surroundings in mind. Judging by the near invisible flinch that the walking shadow himself made, she also caught him by surprise.

She swooped in on a grapple from somewhere behind him, landing next to Batman. Standing next to him, she looked like a little girl showing her dad the fifth grader who'd been picking on her at recess. Batgirl had a small smirk on her face, her arms crossed across the yellow symbol on her chest and one hip popped out, supporting her weight. Her fiery red hair still caught him off guard, and the memory of their last encounter got his blood boiling all over again.

"Batgirl, back for seconds I see." His pockets supported the weight of his hands as he moved them away from his chest, trying to alleviate the tension from the conversation he'd been having with Bruce. If he was correct, the newest Batkids didn't know who he was. Batman was afraid to show off any failures to the new gang. "Apparently, all the Bats were craving it tonight. Don't worry, I saved you some."

Behind her cowl, Batgirl rolled her eyes and pouted out her lower lip in annoyance. "Shut up."

Hood laughed a bit. "Your kids don't play nice, B-Man. You should work on that." Batgirl's face scrunched up in hatred, directed at the leather clad vigilante. Feigning an apologetic body stance, with the tips of his fingers touching where his mouth would be on his helmet, he corrected himself: "Oh, sorry, you're obviously not _really_ related. Girlfriend, then."

Batgirl's red lips opened to retort something, but he was already gone, falling backwards off the roof and off to another adventure.

Hands on her hips, she looked at Bruce expectantly. Rather than explain himself, however, he reached into his utility belt and grabbed his grappling hook, before walking away. "So, what?" Her tone was angry and demanding as she stepped in front of him. "You're just not going to tell me what _that_ was all about?"

His lips were a straight line, his expression unreadable stone beneath his mask. If Barbara didn't know any better, it would seem like the big bad Batman was upset. And not upset in a scary Batman way, but more like a sad hurt puppy way. "The Red Hood is dangerous, Batgirl." His words were as difficult to read as his face was. There was something here, Barbara could tell. "I need you to keep an eye on him. Don't let him cross the line any more than he already has."

Her jaw opened of its own accord, shocked by his request. "W-why me?" She could feel the breeze on her eyes where they were practically popping out of their sockets. Attempting to regain her composure, she forced her mouth shut and her eyes tighter.

White lenses now stared down at her, having an expression despite the complete blankness of the white. "He won't let me close enough to help him. He doesn't know you yet. You're the only one he'd consider trusting."

This statement raised a variety of questions. Dick knew him? How? Was Tim in on it as well? What about Damian or Steph? Why had no one told her? What was so special about Barbara Gordon that some crazy murderer would allow her in? And what was so special about this particular crazy murderer that Bruce didn't want to go after him personally? Surely, Red Hood couldn't be any worse than some of Batman's regular rogues around here. Joker, Penguin, Two Face… they all could probably murder circles around this new guy. Why try to keep him straight when they should just bring him in? But, the most pressing of these questions: Why did Bruce expect Barbara to be able to infiltrate the Red Hood's twisted mind?

"And he'll trust me?" She asked, not trying very hard at all to keep the disbelief out of her voice. "We've already gotten off on two wrong feet. Why would that change now?"

Rather than answer her, Bruce moved past her and climbed the edge of the rooftop. He looked at her and she knew she wasn't going to get the answer right now. "Follow me," he said before his body vanished with the _swoosh_ of a cape. Trying to keep from losing him, she sprinted and flung herself over the edge after him.

 _ ************LINE BREAKER!************_

"What exactly am I looking at?"

Barbara stood with her hands on the deck of the massive computer, supporting her weight. Her cowl was down, and every now and then her hand ruffled the roots of her hair, trying to prevent cowl hair that she already knew she had. Bruce was off somewhere in a shadow of the cave, getting a spare flash drive to download the files to her. Arranged neatly in a few rows on the monito in front of her were 14 photos of women, their names and ages listed beneath them. Also listed were locations. Intersections, monuments, specific parks, businesses. Any place throughout the city. Barbara had a best guess but she wanted Bruce to confirm it.

The man in question near silently appeared behind her, flash drive in hand. "The case that Red Hood is working, he just doesn't know it yet."

She scoffed at the lack of explanation, piecing together the situation on her own. "Missing persons?"

Bruce huffed a 'yes' in response. Barbara turned to face him, but he was staring up at the screen, concentrating hard. "Hood thinks he's only investigating a couple of drug dealers who decided to go bigger." He looked back at her now, his cowl down but the scowl remaining. Dick always used to say that it took him a while to 'exit Batman mode'. "But he's only scratched the surface."

Barbara narrowed her eyes at him. "Well then whatis it _really_?" She asked. Her arms crossed across her chest, jaw set and teeth barely grinding together.

"Sex trafficking," Bruce said casually. "These women have been kidnapped, and it is believed that they were taken by the Ramos' men, but there's no hard evidence other than what's in these files." As he spoke, he plugged the flash drive into his computer and pressed a button on the keyboard, beginning the download. "Giving this information to Hood will not only earn his trust, but will also help bring those girls home as quickly as possible."

Once again, Barbara found herself narrowing her eyes. "If you had all this info, why haven't _you_ been trying to bring these guys in?"

Bruce looked down at her again, this time with a small smile on his lips. Barbara was willing to bed that he was admiring her wonderful question-asking skills at that particular moment. "Because, Barbara, I've been a bit busy."

Thinking back, Bruce was right. The earliest date on these women was August – two months ago. In the past two months, Joker had kidnapped the mayor, blew up a mall, and hijacked a train. Two-Face had attempted to overthrow the government of Gotham. Penguin had tried to purchase a _literal tank_ to destroy Batman with. Not to mention Damian had the flu for at least a week in there somewhere (which was _by far_ the worst out of that list.) They'd had a busy autumn. It was crime season.

She nodded her agreement, taking the flash drive as he held it out to her. "You mind if I use your computer for a second?" she asked.

His eyebrow raised, as he was fully aware she had her own set up at her new apartment. "What for?"

"My new roommate is kinda weird, and I wanted to check into it. It's kind of hard to research someone when they live within 750 square feet of you, you know?" Her lips quirked up in a smirk as she moved past him towards the keyboard. "Your research is generally more extensive than mine, and I just wanted to look up his record and see if anything stuck out."

Bruce seemed skeptical, crossing his arms and not moving out of her way. "Who is he?"

Barbara smiled. "You wouldn't know him, Bruce. He just moved in from New York."

"I've done quite a bit of traveling in my day," Bruce said. Barbara was being awfully secretive about her roommate, and Bruce knew there had to be a reason. Perhaps she didn't want Dick to know that she'd moved in with a boy, although Dick and Barbara rarely kept secrets from each other. "Who is it?"

Rolling her eyes, Barbara mumbled, "His name is Jason Todd."

Panic struck him for a brief moment before Bruce realized Barbara had no idea. "You know how I feel about you using my computer for personal matters." His voice was steely, no longer the scary Batman or the loving Bruce Wayne, but some kind of weird mixture between the two.

 _Bat-dad_ , Barbara thought to herself with a smile.

She rolled her eyes again. "Fine, can you at least look him up and send me some information?" As she spoke, she pulled her cowl off completely, walking towards the stairs to go change before heading home. "You got them connects, Bruce," she called over her shoulder, laughing.

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head, regretting the time he laughed when Tim said that to him, as it had somehow become a huge joke amongst the vigilante family.


	3. Chapter 3

Her keys jingled as she tried to shake the lock loose, as if the door handle needed more convincing than just the proper key to open the door. Over her shoulder hung a duffle bag, full of dirty gym clothes, weighing down on her shoulder as if it was the heaviest thing in the world. Bruce's sudden change in demeanor had surprised her, sticking with her the entire commute home.

Finally, after sufficient shaking, the lock gave way and the door swung open. Smiling, Barbara entered the apartment. It was dark inside, void of all signs of life. "Jay?" she called into the living room. She listened for a moment, but wasn't surprised when only silence met her ears.

Bruce's words still lingering in her mind, she ventured towards her room and put her stuff down.

He'd gotten so stiff when she mentioned her roommate. Which was not what she'd expected, due to Bruce's usual enthusiasm for ensuring the safety of his vigilante children. Alfred once told her that if Bruce got his way, they would most likely all live at the Manor still. Given this attitude, it was incredibly odd that he would forbid her from performing the most thorough background check on this new person in her life, especially since he was from out of town, and none of the Bat-family had ever met him.

Across the room, sitting on the ledge by the window was her laptop. It was a regular laptop, but obviously, Barbara had done some serious renovations, per say. It was downloaded with almost all of the information that Bruce's computer had, but because it was smaller and newer, she didn't have _all_ of his files yet.

The laptop was tempting her, promising a chance at the answers she was craving so badly. But the slight sound of metal clicking into place was heard and the door to her apartment was opening.

"Barbie? Where ya at?" Jason called into the apartment.

Vowing to look into it more later, Barbara gave one last glance to her laptop before switching the light in her room off and heading towards his call. "What's up, Jay?" Seeing him, she noticed that Jason held two bags in his hands: one plastic grocery bag and one brown paper bag. Even more noticeable was the huge grin on his face.

He looked at her and his grin only grew. "I got dinner and movies," he said, as though he'd never done anything more impressive.

Setting the bags down on the kitchen counter, her attention was first drawn to his hands shuffling about in the brown bag. From said bag, he produced a small Chinese container and a package of chopsticks. "Jason Todd," Barbara said, leaning over the bar on her elbows. "How did you know I was craving Chinese?"

Jason smirked without looking at her. "Must be psychic," he murmured. He passed her the container with her fried rice in it before shuffling about in the plastic bag. "Do you want funny, scary, or intense?" He was looking at her now, holding three DVD's in each hand. His eyes flitted to her finger, which dangled precariously on her lip as she considered her options. Watching him stare, her lips cracked into a smile, separating around the finger still near her mouth.

"Surprise me."

 _ ************LINE BREAKER!************_

A monster shrieked on the screen, successfully decapitating its victim. Jason's heart was racing, not because of the movie, per say, as much as the way the entire evening had played out.

His little exchange with Bruce had left so many questions in his head, and even more uncertainties. For the longest time, Jason had believed that Bruce was ashamed of him, that Bruce didn't ever speak of him to his new vigilante family. Why would he? Jason had failed Bruce with his own death, and then he'd thrown it in his face with his mysterious resurrection. The relationship between father and former son was nonexistent at best, but Jason was capable of managing that.

But where does Bruce get off offering him a place to stay? As if Jason was still Bruce's oldest son and was visiting town for business rather than moving back to take care of the crime problem his own way. Where there had once been a line between them there was now a squiggle and Jason wasn't sure where it was anymore.

"What's the matter, Jay?" Barbara asked, smirking at him out of the corner of her eye. She was sitting so close to him that their thighs were touching, and had Jason not been so preoccupied, he would've found it impossible to stop staring. "Scared of your own movie?"

Jason smiled a bit, trying to compose himself. He hadn't realized that his thoughts were showing on his face. "No, of course not," he said, leaning further back into the couch and throwing his arm over the back. Jason was painfully aware of the way her eyes were glued to him, watching to see his phony relaxation crack. If he wasn't mistaken, Barbara actually scooted a bit closer to him. "You know me, Babs. Never scared of anything."

Okay, she was most definitely getting closer now.

Her lips were a few inches away from his now, and the urge to kiss her was at the forefront of his mind. "Nothing at all?" she asked. Her voice was husky and low, and he could feel the warmth of her body being so close to him. His eyes flitted down to her lips, and even though he wished with all his might that she hadn't seen it, it was obvious that she had. Her eyebrows rose and she bit her lip barely as laughter threatened to wrack her body. "Cause you seem pretty on edge right now."

Suddenly she wasn't close to him anymore. Her body had flung itself back against the couch next to him and Jason was left leaning towards the space she'd previously occupied.

Now, Barbara was laughing and leaning over, her head falling into the small crook under his arm. He tried not to flinch when her hand rested gently on his belly. But then a warmth spread through him and he felt more relaxed as she settled her weight against him. "I'm calm, cool, and collected, Barbie," he said. She was watching the movie now, and was no longer focused on the half-smirk half-smile resting on his face.


	4. Chapter 4

The apartment was completely flooded with light, showing the early morning without a clock. Jason squinted and grunted groggily, lifting his head off the couch. His arm was still flung over the back cushions where Barbara's head wasn't anymore. A voice somewhere in his head was whispering that Barbara must've gone to work, but it took a few seconds to register. Scents of warm food wafted through the living room, and despite his exhaustion, Jason dragged himself off the couch in search of its source.

The wood floor was cold against his feet, and the morning air crisp against his bare torso. As he neared the kitchen, the smell of eggs and bacon grew stronger in his lungs. He saw the pan and the spatula, casually laying on the stove. They were still warm, indicating that either Barbara had been late to work, or it was _far_ too early for Jason to be awake.

He noticed a small scribbled note on the counter, and picked it up to investigate it as he attempted to rub the sleep from his eyes.

 _Jay –_

 _I made breakfast this morning, and in the hopes that you weren't as dead as you seemed, I saved you some. If, by some act of God, you are_ _ **not**_ _in fact dead, then I saved you a plate. It's in the microwave. And, if you're alive and well and reading this, I'll be home tonight, with dinner. If you're not here I'm eating yours._

 _Babs_

A small smile formed on his lips, growing as he reached for the microwave and pulled out a plate stuffed with not only bacon and eggs, but also hashed browns and sausage links. Sending a brief prayer towards whatever was watching over him to bless him with a roommate like Barbara, he stuffed an entire strip of bacon into his mouth and walked towards the living room once more to watch the morning news. He was glad she left him so much food, because he'd told her that he started work today, and he fully intended to.

 _ ***********LINE BREAKER************_

Weights clinked together loudly, moving quickly up and down through the air, accompanied by the sounds of heavy breathing and loud rock music, as well as the occasional counting. Jason heavily placed the barbell on the rack and sat up, wiping the sweat from his brow. His laptop dinged at him, drawing his attention away from the weights and towards the glowing screen.

Convenient, really. He needed a drink of water.

As he chugged what seemed like the greatest gulp of water of his entire life, he read the pop up on his computer. After various background checks and cross references (as well as some incredible insight from Jerry), he finally found his suspect.

Luis Ramos. Mid-level gang member. Jason had worked his way up the chain of scum bags until he found Luis. His men were selling drugs to children, and selling military grade weapons to drug lords. The last thing Gotham needed was _more_ drug lords with machine guns running around killing innocent people. Luis was most likely not the root of the problem, but Jason was determined to ride this scum bag train all the way to the top, and Luis was – at the very least – in charge of this particular wave of crime.

Or so his computer told him.

Water bottle now empty, Jason dialed a number on his phone and fell to the floor. Long beeps rang out through the speaker, signaling that it was ringing while he did his push-ups.

"Hello?" answered a gruff, groggy voice.

Jason pushed himself up, forcing a breath out of his lungs. "Hey, Donny. Guess who," he said, clenching his teeth. His pushups were fast paced, and his breathing was labored while he struggled to control it.

The man on the other end of the line sighed. "What do you need, Red?" His voice was pushing forth energy that it didn't have. Donny must just be getting out of bed. But he'd learned long ago that his discomfort was better than ignoring the call of the Red Hood. His missing fingers could attest to that.

"I need some information, Donny. Some real easy information to get." Sweat dripped off his brows once again, pooling on the floor beneath his moving body.

He could hear Donny laughing through the phone. It was easy to just imagine that Donny was laying in bed, rubbing his eyes with a sleepy smile on his face. "If it's so easy why don't you do it yourself?" The phone crackled a bit, as if he was trying to get dressed. It was noon after all, Donny should most definitely be awake for the day.

"Don't get all snippy on me, Donny," Jason said. His arms were shaking now, as was his voice. "I have you to find these things out for me."

Donny snorted, paused a moment, and then sighed again. Despite the Red Hood's anger and violent tendencies, Donny and the vigilante had formed a successful relationship over the years. When they'd met, Donny owed a lot of money to a lot of people that you don't want to owe money to. "Don't I know it," he said. "What do you need, boss?"

Jason collapsed on the floor, next to his phone. He had lost count of his labor somewhere around 70, and decided he needed a break before he started all over again. "There's a guy named Luis Ramos. You know of him?"

"Yeah," Donny said. "Not really dangerous enough to be your type though, or so I thought." Jason could hear him clicking away at a keyboard, searching for whatever information that the Red Hood needed of him. "Do you want to know who's at his weekly book club?"

A small smile crept onto Jason's face. "Not this time," he said. "I need to know where he's going to be tonight."

"Okay, give me a second."

More typing could be heard through the other end of the phone, and a moment passed while Donny searched through his files and information. While he waited, Jason began his push-ups again. A beam of sunlight coming in from the window seemed to bear down on his bare back, heating him up faster than he would've liked. While in reality, he was only waiting for a brief moment, it felt like a whole separate eternity.

There was finally a pause in the click before a sigh of relief. "I almost had nothing for you," Donny said. Jason could hear the panic leaving his body through his voice. "So I don't know where Luis is going to be tonight," Jason grit his teeth in frustration. " **But** I know that a gang is supposed to receive a huge shipment of weapons at 5:30 from Luis' partner." More tapping, before a loud click, probably from a laptop closing. "It's a safe bet that is Luis isn't there, someone will."

Jason smiled through his pushups, taking yet another break and picking the phone up. "Great. I'll be by in about an hour to get the details. Meet me at our usual place."

Without waiting for a goodbye from Donny, he hung up the phone. He had an hour to shower, eat, and get to the alley. His workout was going to have to be cut short, but something told him he'd make up for it later.

 _ ************LINE BREAKER!************_

Jason stood on a rooftop, completely in awe. Not only had this been exactly what he was looking for, it was more than that. Dozens of men walked into this building, Latino gang members and Italian gang members. But then there was a handful – maybe four or five – Russians, and with them they brought a huge crate. With infrared he could see that there were either multiple heat signatures huddles together, or one huge, lumpy warm mass within this crate.

Regardless, Jason was _excessively_ outnumbered.

Briefly, he contemplated calling for help. Batman would be the smartest move, being that he's closer and has fought these odds on multiple occasions before. But if Jason only wanted moderately wounded pride, he would call Roy, who helped Jason out of far worse jams than the one he was currently in.

But, Jason chose to keep his pride – and his life – in tact. This would be simple recon, gaining intelligence before calling in the necessary recruitments.

Which, he guess, if he needed to, he would consider calling Bruce in for help.

But he _shouldn't_ need help. Not against some low life scum bags with machine guns.

Once everyone appeared to be inside, he made his way over to the vent system and climbed in. He'd gotten here early, to map out the ventilation system. _Always know your way out_ , that's what Bruce always said. The best view of the main room in the warehouse (the only one big enough for that crate) was two rights from where the drop landed. If he moved quickly, he'd get to hear all the fun stuff.

Because either they needed a _lot_ of weapons, or there was something else in that crate. Jason's money was on the latter.

He had already removed the grating from the vent, so that nothing would be impeding his vision. As well as hidden mics around the entire room. Whatever happened down there, Jason would be prepared for it.

Down below him, each group was together, gathered in a circle. Every member was facing themselves, toward the center of this strange, three-part circle that they've formed. Based on appearance and demeanor, Jason could tell which group was which. The Italians – likely the Briscolinos, who Donny had warned him about – were toward the west wall, huddled together closely and defensive toward the outside. The Latinos – the Ramos' – were toward the east wall, in similar stance, obviously ready to pounce. In fact, the only relaxed group here seemed to be the Russians, who were unidentified but, best guess, they were with the Ramos'.

"As you can see, they still need some work." The voice was Russian, but Jason couldn't make out which Russian was speaking. Most likely the one toward the front of the group, closest with Luis' partner. "But the progress we've made is remarkable and undeniable. Soon, they will be the ultimate machines."

A couple of men looked back and forth amongst each other, but no one said anything. A long pause was all that came through Jason's mic, and for a moment he wondered whether it might be broken.

But then the Luis' partner spoke up. "Right now, they aren't on the table, just the regular weapons as usual." The man's voice wasn't heavily tainted by his accent. It could only be heard when he spoke certain syllables, suggesting that Spanish was his second language rather than his first. "But our projections have this particular group of subject ready within the month."

The leader of the Briscolinos seemed to be irritated by this news. "We were told it'd be ready _today_ , Rolo," his voice was venomous, biting with anger. "How much more time and patience do you expect from him?"

Rolo put his hands up in defense. "Easy there, pal." He took a step back to signify he was not prepared to fight. "We have a bit more training to do. A couple adjustments to the serum to try out."

One of the Russian leaders stepped forward and Jason could see his mouth open to speak, but rather than hearing his voice, he heard a loud, obnoxious tune. It rang and echoed throughout the warehouse, bouncing off the rafters and through the vent in which Jason was concealed. For a few agonizing moments, Jason squinted his eyes shut and prayed they wouldn't be able to pinpoint the location of the tune.

"I thought you said this warehouse was empty!" Cried the Briscolino leader. He and his men were scrambling, gathering their weapons and preparing to fight or leave. The Russians had already begun pushing the crate toward the door.

Whatever was in it, Jason knew he didn't want them to have it.

Sighing and realizing that he had no choice but to take them on before they escaped, he pulled one gun free from its holster and leapt down below. As he fell, his free hand reached up to turn off the ringing of his Bluetooth before he grabbed the other gun and began open fire towards his opponents. Before he'd even hit the ground, four thugs had fallen to the floor, dead or close to it.

"Hello? Jay?"

Fuck.

He continued shooting, not having the time to pause his assault. If he relented his attacks even for a second, he'd be over run. "Hey, Barbie, what's up?" His voice could almost pull off a casual tone, but not quite. It mostly sounded anxious and preoccupied.

During the brief pause between her response, he fired off six bullets. Bodies were dropping left and right. Among the dozens of thugs and gangsters, about half were running and the other half were attacking. The Russians had escaped, and it didn't look possible for Jason to go after them with all the angry men between him and the disappearing crate. He was crouched behind a large box which absorbed the bullets aimed at him.

"It's so loud," she said. He hadn't thought about the fact that she might be able to hear the gunshots. "Where are you?"

His mind scrambled, searching for an excuse. "Ummm," he said. "I'm at work. Target practice." His excuse was faulty and he knew it. While he spoke, he jumped up from behind the crate and fired at two more goons, not stopping to watch their bodies hit the ground before he ducked for cover once more. "I'm kinda busy, what do you need?"

"Lucky," she said. He could hear some banging and creaking of wheels. "I'm at work and it's not exciting at all."

Her words were drowned out as Jason flung his body over the crate, running towards the remaining – maybe seven – goons. His guns were blazing and with every step another body fell. "I wish I was having less excitement," he said through gritted teeth. "My supervisor is giving me the look, Babs, I gotta go."

A lucky bullet found its way into Jason's bicep. It went completely through his leather jacket and the light armor there, through his flesh, and out the other side.

"Ah! Son of a bitch!" he cried. It was a fierce burning sensation throughout his entire right side, even the small movement his fingers made to pull the trigger of his gun sent jolts of pain all the way through him. It was difficult to figure out which thug exactly got lucky, so he'd just have to kill them all.

"What?!" Barbara shouted, panic suddenly flooding her voice. "Are you okay? What happened?"

Fuck. "I'm falling behind, I really gotta go." Again, his excuse was extremely flimsy. But talking to Barbara about her work struggles was not number one on his priority list right now.

He heard her take a breath of relief. "Good, I thought you got shot or something." She was laughing, and he forced a tense sounding laugh as well. "Well, before you go, I'm grabbing some takeout on my way home. Did you want anything?"

Jason rolled his eyes. Something trivial like this compromised his position and caused him to lose sight of what he came here for. But Barbara didn't know. It's not like he could yell at her for causing him to lose a bunch of weapons, or drugs, or _something_. Finally, the last goon had fallen, a large splatter of blood and brain matter on the ground behind him. He was successfully the victor of this fight.

He holstered his weapons and took off his jacket, trying to get a better look at the wound on his arm. "Depends where you're going, I guess."

The armor around the wound was torn and frayed, not clean cut. Blood was eagerly seeping out of the open skin, soaking into his costume and filling his nostrils with the smell of death. He was a bit taken aback by the amount of blood he was losing, but he still wagered it was nothing more than a flesh wound. If he could make it back to his vigilante apartment without passing out, he'd be just fine.

"I was kinda craving tacos, or pasta. Dealer's choice really," she mused absentmindedly. He wondered how she'd react if she discovered that her long-time friend, new roommate was an undead vigilante, and that she was actually on the phone with him while he got shot.

Probably not well.

He felt his head starting to feel fuzzy, and he knew his time was limited. His apartment that housed the medical supplies he needed was 20 minutes away. If that's how long it took him to pass out, he'd be genuinely surprised. "Yeah, I could go for some fajitas or something." He put his jacket back on and grappled up into the vent through which he'd entered the warehouse. "It's your city, Babs. I'll eat what you get me."

The other line was silent for a moment, and Jason wondered briefly if she was mentally deconstructing all his excuses. "Alright. I'll bring home some tacos and other various Mexican foods."

Despite the pain and the bloodloss and the frustration at having lost the crate, he actually laughed. "Okay, Babs. I'll be home in an hour or two, okay?"

He could hear her smile. "Okay, stay safe. See you at home." And the line went dead.

Back on the roof now, he looked around on the off chance he'd see the Russians. It couldn't be easy to hide a crate that big, or whatever machines-in-training it housed. Odds were that it was in a warehouse somewhere around here. But Jason hadn't bothered to look to see where everyone had come from, and he didn't have time right now for a wild goose chase.

Grunting in both pain and frustration, he took off towards his safe house. You don't train machines. Maybe they were some kind of animals? That would explain the heat signatures. But what sort of animals could you keep – or use – in a huge city like Gotham? Joker had made reasonable use of his hyenas, but no one else was crazy enough to tame a hyena, let alone several. Hyenas were loud, after all. And whatever was in the crate was almost completely silent.

There were too many questions left in his mind, and he sensed he was running out of time to get the answers.


	5. Chapter 5

Jason's arm was aching with the strain of opening the door. It took an embarrassing amount of effort not to wince, despite the fact that no one was watching. After an hour of sewing, disinfecting, and bandaging, Jason had painstakingly put on his not bullet torn leather jacket (an old one that went with his last uniform, it had red accents on the sleeves) and walked the three blocks to his house. Unfortunately, because the bullet had torn the Kevlar on his sleeve, that piece was not salvageable and he'd need a whole new one.

Put that on his to-do list for the morning.

Barbara was sitting on the couch, still wearing her work attire, and stuffing her face with tacos. She smiled, lettuce and taco shell sticking to her lips. "Hey," she said, mouth completely full of food. "I saved you some."

Jason smiled back, grateful. Greasy food was just what he needed to get his blood sugar up. "Good, I'm feeling lightheaded." He made his way to the couch and collapsed, careful not to land on his injured arm. He'd taken some painkillers, but drugs never worked on him unless it was an elephant sized dosage, and even then, it only lasted an hour at most.

He can't suppress the flinch when he raises his arm to bring a taco to his mouth, and he knows that Barbara had to have seen it out the corner of her eye. "How was your day?" she asked, thankfully ignoring it.

Taco crumbs fell from his lips as he spoke. "Good. Some guy named Anthony thought he could beat me at sparring," he lied. But, he hoped it would explain his sore arm. "No worries, no one takes down Jason Todd."

At his words, he saw a flicker of something in her eyes. Some kind of drawback, something almost clicking together in her brain. Her body language didn't convey her slight moment of tension, but Jason still saw it change her demeanor. What had he said that made her double take? Perhaps she didn't buy his story about his new made up friend Anthony. "Oh yeah? Did you and Anthony make out afterward?"

Her sarcasm betrayed her suspicion. "And rode off into the sunset. It was really romantic, honestly. Check your mail for the wedding invite."

She rolled her eyes, and if it hadn't been clear before that his words didn't convince her, it was now. "That sounds legit." Her voice was light, but there was an edge behind it.

It would be difficult if not impossible to convince her now. Her mind was clearly made up already: Jason was hiding something. For someone who lied to people for a living, Jason thought it would've been easier to keep Barbara in the dark. He could blame it on lack of oxygen flow to his brain, but he knew damn well it was because of a lack of effort. "How was your day, Barbara?"

Barbara's expression changed, just barely. It was all in her eyes. The changes that she couldn't control always happened in her eyes. She struggled to reign them in, and that would be her downfall. There, in her eyes, Jason detected a brief flicker of panic. Her smile remained, unmoving. It was unnerving the way she'd practiced keeping her face steeled. But still, he noticed that panic in her eyes and he wouldn't soon forget it. Dollars to donuts, the next words out of Barbara's mouth would be just as false as the words that had just come out of his.

"I got in a fight with my friend Colleen," she said. Her eyes were fierce now, tense and staring him down, daring him to challenge her story. "Her boyfriend treats her like she's nothing to him, and I told her she shouldn't stand for it." There was something off about her story. Maybe there was a shred of truth among it, but it wasn't quite right. "But other than that, slow day. I read some interesting things that reminded me of you," she claimed.

Jason smirked. "Oh yeah?" he snickered.

Barbara only responded in a nod, smirk still on her face. "Yeah, about some guy who was this total badass in the zombie apocalypse, but in reality, he's a giant baby."

Reaching for another taco as he stood from the couch, he laughed. "That reminds you of me?" He asked. His arm was throbbing and he was trying his hardest to remain casual about it, but he needed a moment to readjust his bandages. They were tugging on his stitches, and the last thing he needed right now was to bleed through his clothing on their brand-new couch in front of his roommate who would probably be terrified. So, he leaned into the refrigerator and grabbed himself a soda. "Definitely not how I see myself, but I'll bite."

She was looking at him through her lashes when he returned, can in one hand and taco in the other. "Yeah, because you got the leather jacket, macho muscles thing going," she began. Her explanation included hand gestures towards his current appearance. And if Jason was being honest, following the movement made him incredibly dizzy. "But deep down, under this hard exterior, you're a giant teddy bear."

He laughed once more. "Where did you read this piece, Barbie?"

She waved her hand, as though the answer wasn't important. And Jason realized that he'd almost fallen for the same distraction he'd given her.

They looked at each other for a moment, each wondering who was going to say something first. Her eyes were a marvelous blue color. Not the normal kind of blue though, a pale blue. The kind of color some hipster would romanticize.

The realization dawned upon him. That he was so eager to learn every little secret that Barbara was hiding from him, but all the while keeping his own secrets from her. Their friendship had worked wonderfully when it'd been long distance. Maybe that was because there was no need for them to dig into each other's lives, to learn each other's secrets. All that was needed was what was told, which were little stories such as the ones they just told. It was all so much different in person than it was over text, or video chat, or any other format they'd used over the years.

But he could keep digging and digging and be met with the same resistance that he was meeting currently, or he could show her that he'd dropped it. Stop asking her questions, just enjoy his friend that he'd traveled so far to meet.

Jason's curiosity could cost him his own secret, and putting Barbara in the line of fire of whatever lethal nonsense he was about to get wrapped up in was not something he wanted on his conscience. But if she kept digging into his life, that could be exactly the fate in store for her. It was bound to blow up if it kept on the way it was.

Jason sighed. "What're you watching?"

 _ ************LINE BREAKER!************_

"And where are you off to, young lady?"

Jason's feet were propped up on the coffee table, eyes glued to the TV between them. He hadn't even looked over his shoulder to know that Barbara had near silently crept out of her room and was heading toward the door behind him.

When he finally did turn to look at her, he noticed that she was wearing a new perfume, and her hair was straightened. Absentmindedly, he mused that the length of her hair was increased exponentially when it was completely straight. "All dolled up too," he hummed. "Who's the lucky guy?" He asked, turning his head back to watch the TV.

"Hemmingway," she said, leaning over the couch next to his head. "Going to the library to study."

A grin crept onto Jason's face. "Study dates still count as dates, Babs," he snickered.

A twinge of pain shot through his skull when she flicked the side of his head, puckering her lower lip in frustration. "I do not have a date, Jason," she ground through her teeth. He sat forward on the couch and twisted his body so he was looking at her, keeping his wounded arm away from her in case of any more vicious attacks. "I have a report due at midnight."

She did have her bookbag with her, but that didn't fool Jason. Her face and neck were flushing red, and she was wearing a particularly low V-neck, exposing her oh-so-lovely cleavage (which Jason definitely wasn't staring at. No, not at all). "Liar," he accused. "You're blushing."

His grin was so wide his teeth were exposed now, audibly laughing through his words at his roommate.

"I'm not your dad, Barbara. You can tell me if you have a date."

"And I sure would if I had one, but I don't."

"Then why are you blushing?"

"I'm embarrassed by your stupidity."

Jason reigned in his laughter, watching Barbara getting more and more irritated than his normal teasing. During their battle of wits, he'd received 4 punches in the shoulder and had thanked any god who was listening that he'd moved his injury away from her. "I'm just teasing, Barbie, calm down." She rolled her eyes at him, shaking off her annoyance. "Now you go, have fun on your date."

With a sigh of exasperation and a few stomps, Barbara was standing in the doorway, mumbling something like "I hate you," before slamming the door behind her. Now that she was gone, Jason's smile teetered off his face slowly, creeping into a mixture between a scowl and a frown.

He'd been sitting on the couch trying to find an excuse to leave and go do some investigating, to see if maybe he could find those Russians and the weapons they were creating. But with Barbara gone, an excuse was not needed. At least not right now. Odds are, Barbara would be home before he was done being a vigilante.

But he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

For now, he needed to get into uniform and get off his couch.

 _ ************LINE BREAKER!************_

Barbara's thumb toyed with the pocket on her utility belt which housed the flash drive, looking over the rooftop at the Red Hood as he inspected the ground. After patrol, she'd caught a flash of his helmet heading downtown, and tracked him all the way to the warehouse district.

He was bent at the waist, fingers prodding the ground and looking around, as if he was searching for something.

 _Maybe he dropped his ego somewhere,_ she thought.

Before bounding in and making a fool of herself like she did last time, she took a moment to examine him. Over the past few days, Barbara had been doing some research on the notorious Red Hood. There wasn't a lot of information out there on him, but Bruce had supplied her with enough information to get an idea of what she was up against. The Red Hood was almost always armed, several guns and blades at all times. His most used was the weapon that Barbara could see strapped to his hip, but she could count three more on both thighs and the other hip, and she was almost certain the bulge of another weapon was protruding from beneath his leather jacket. With the way he was moving, he didn't seem to be on guard, meaning that he didn't know that she was watching him, or he just didn't care.

Wish a sigh, Barbara straightened up and prepared her grapple. When she fired it, the Hood clearly heard her. She could see him tense up as she fell down toward him.

"I wondered when I'd hear from you, beautiful." He was facing her as her feet touched down on the ground, white lenses narrowed at her. The helmet blocked her line of sight, but she was almost certain his face was dripping with smugness in there. "What can I do for ya?"

Barbara restrained her eye roll, irritation settling deep into the pit of her stomach. "I've been looking for you, Hood," she said. She put away the grapple gun and reached for the drive within her belt.

At her movements, the over-cautious Hood reached for his own gun and had it trained on her within a second. "Be cool, Batsy," he murmured. "I'd hate to have to hand your body to the big man." Her heart skipped a beat, staring down the barrel of the gun she'd identified as his favorite.

Time seemed to stop for a moment, as the footage of Red Hood's fights came to the forefront of her mind. She remembered that he was quicker than she'd originally anticipated, and better at anticipating her moves than Dick, or even Tim. Only a few seconds until the fight would begin. For some reason, Barbara was confident that Hood wouldn't shoot her. Even if she believed he wanted her dead, it'd be too much trouble. Killing her would bring Batman down on him harder than she could even imagine.

With one fluid motion, she reached forward and pushed the gun aside, using her other fist and pushing into his elbow. Her hand wrapped around his wrist and pushed against it, forcing his hand to release the weapon. While she was occupied with the weapons, however, she failed to notice the gloved hand flying toward her until it was pounding into her kidneys, followed shortly by a firm knee.

She doubled over, only for a moment, before she felt his hands grasping at her cape. It yanked her upwards, forcing her to stand straight and face him. Using the momentum provided by Hood's pull on her cape, she jumped into a backflip, kicking her feet into his chin as she did. His head rolled back before jolting back up to see her sprinting towards him, head low. To her surprise, when she expected to hit him in his abdomen, instead his hands grasped her back and she was pushed down and forward as he leap frogged over her.

Moving quickly, she immediately spun into a sweeping kick, catching just one of his ankles as she did. His balance was thrown off and Barbara sprang into a jump, pushing her shoulder hard into his chest.

Now his towering figure was crashing to the ground, a small cloud of dust moving around him. Barbara jumped, landing on him in a straddle and pushing a hand against his shoulder. Her other hand moved around behind his helmet, fumbling and searching for the release to take it off. With all of Bruce's resources, there was nothing in his system about the true identity of the Red Hood. And Barbara was determined to find out.

"Eager little bat, aren't ya?" He said. His voice was gravelly beneath the helmet, and she stopped moving for a brief moment to look at him. His expressionless helmet was somehow so easy to read. Maybe it was the tone of his voice mixed with the white lenses narrowing.

She let herself ponder this but realized too late that she had compromised her position on top. Hood's legs came up around her, wrapping around her neck from behind and pushing her down. The back of her head slammed heavily against the ground, and now Hood was straddling her. Her vision was blurred with dark spots, head swimming in a cloud.

Her wrists were pinned to her sides, while his feet hooked around her legs and prevented her from moving. "You can't expect me to take something off if you're not going to," he purred. Just as before, his chest rumbled against her and made her cringe. "Show me yours I'll show you mine."

Now, she didn't even try to hide her eye roll. "Don't be disgusting, Hood."

"I'm just trying to play nice," he said. His mask was dangerously close to her face, she could see herself in the reflection on the hard exterior.

"You're awful heavy," she said, smirking. "You should lay off the pizza rolls." Using her hips, she pushed up into him, lifting his weight off her legs enough for her to get them under her. Then she was throwing him off of her and back away, fists ready. Her heart was beating, quickly and steadily, waiting for his next move.

He didn't look ready to pounce, but she'd learned that that didn't necessarily mean anything. "I think we could be fighting this fight all night," he said, hanging his arms on his jacket once more. "Why are you here, Batsy?"

Barbara rolled her eyes once more at the nickname. She hated Bruce at this moment for assigning her to this particular asshole. Her upper lip curled up in a snarl, angry because he was right. At this rate, they'd be dueling for hours with no clear victor.

"I'm trying to help you, and you try to shoot me." Her stance stays rigid, staring at him through her fists. "Maybe I'll just take my help and leave." Hood laughs at her, and she can't help but be annoyed by the déjà vu. "I'm getting really tired of you laughing at me, Hood."

He took a few large steps toward her, hands in his pockets. "You should try being less funny, then," he hummed. "What on earth makes you think I need you for _anything_?"

Bruce owed her so much for this. Of course he would pick her to deal with not only the least predictable rogue, but also the most annoying. If she was really lucky, she could get some new equipment out of him. Maybe a new suit, or a new bike. Some new furniture for her room at the Manor. All of that, and dealing with this asshole still wouldn't be worth it. Setting her jaw like stone, she reached back into her utility belt. "So I guess you know what you're really looking into with the Ramos kid then, huh?"

She could tell by the way his shoulders fell that she'd piqued his interest. He was probably just as lost on the Ramos case as Bruce suspected. "I've been looking into it, but I don't need your help."

"Well, Batman seems to think otherwise. He's provided these files on the kid, and the case you're working." Her fingers now held the drive between them, showing them up to Red Hood's line of sight. She was taunting him, for the first time since she met him she felt like she had the upper hand. Barbara was loving it. "But, since you've got it covered…" She turned to leave, tucking the drive into her belt and pulling out her grappling gun.

Red Hood took a step towards her, reaching out. "Wait, give it here." His palm was waiting, expecting the drive.

"Eager little Hood, aren't you?" she said over her shoulder. Her lips were curved slightly in a devilish little smirk. "Now do you wanna play nice?"

He put his hands on his hips, tilting his head back and to the left a miniscule amount. Barbara turned her body more to face him holding the drive in her fist while she did. "I knew you had a personality underneath that cowl, Batsy," he quipped. "What do you want for it?"

Now her hands were on her hips, smile on her lips, chest puffed out in pride. "You have to let me help you with the case," she said. "I wanna bring Ramos in just as bad as you do."

Hood laughed again, and again Barbara thought about how annoying it was when he did that. His helmet shook back and forth, as if he was saying no. "See, that's where you're wrong," he said. His demeanor was still casual, but Barbara was still prepared for him to pounce. "I don't wanna bring him _in_ , I want to bring him _down_."

"Then you can do it without my help," Batgirl said. Again, she turned to leave.

She could hear him pacing in the gravel, trying to decide whether it was worth it to go back to her. "Fine!" he called, his voice almost desperate sounding. "I can let him live if it helps take him down faster. What do you have?"


	6. Chapter 6

Pulled up on the screen in front of him were the faces of fourteen missing girls. Girls he hadn't even known were missing. Figures that Bruce would keep this information from him until it was convenient. Inwardly rolling his eyes, Jason looked back at Batgirl. She was watching him intently, her jaw set like stone. "Who are they?" he asked.

Her eyes were hard, staring intensely at him, waiting to see any bit of information she could use. "Various girls, seemingly random pattern." Her face was unchanging, still examining him as she spoke. It was like speaking to a poorly designed video game character.

"There are no random patterns, we both know that," Jason said. "Do they have anything in common?" He stood up straight, his back aching from looking at the information for a bit too long.

Batgirl shut the hologram off and handed him the flash drive. "Not much. They were all taken from the streets of Gotham, all at night," she said. "Batman thinks that they are all prostitutes, working for different pimps and gang leaders."

Jason bit his lower lip, thinking about the situation. Fourteen missing girls, and Bruce tied them to the Ramos. "Where is the connection to these girls and the case I'm working? Ramos has only been accused of drug and arms dealing, nothing about kidnapping."

She hung her hands on her belt, fingers hidden beneath the cape. The stance appeared casual, but Jason knew better. After all, despite Batgirl having seemingly no knowledge of her predecessor, Jason had been trained by the same man she had.

Briefly, he pondered his reasoning behind _not_ telling Batgirl who he was. It would be kind of funny. She hated him so much, watching the expression on her face when she found out that he was just like her would be gold. But if Jason wasn't mistaken, Bruce didn't even tell his newer generation followers about his first son. After his first, post-mortem killing spree, it wouldn't be beyond doubt that Bruce would take down the memorial suit of him in the cave.

But the fact of the matter remained that while exposing his identity would be funny, it would leave him vulnerable. Especially since he had no idea who was beneath her mask. Letting his identity be casually exposed couldn't do much damage to him – after all, he's already died – but the people closest to him. Barbara, Roy, Kori.

Maybe not Kori. She could easily defend herself.

That was beside the point, though.

"They were all seen last with the guy you're investigating." She paused, momentarily, watching him still. "Or one of his partners." Dammit Bruce. Sitting on this when he should've been investigating. Fourteen girls don't just go missing overnight. "We don't know what they're doing with them though. They're not exactly valuable, ransom-able girls."

Suddenly, it began making sense. The crate, the mysterious new product, the heat signatures that he couldn't identify.

Jason took a step back from his enemy-turned-ally. "Batsy, all girls are valuable," he said. "I think they're being sold. There was another 'product' at an arms deal I interrupted, but they got away with it." He took a moment to think it through. The girls must have been what was in the crate. That would explain the heat signatures, and the constant referring to them as 'they'. "But they haven't been sold yet. They were being 'worked on'," he bent his fingers , signifying the air quotes.

"Worked on?" Batgirl asked. He could see her eyebrow raise, even beneath the cowl. "Worked on how?"

"Gee, sure wish I knew," Jason said. You'd think the World's Greatest Detective would train smarter protégé's. "But I know the guy to ask about it."

 _ ************LINE BREAKER!************_

Rolo was in his kitchen, screaming at a woman in the living room. Jason could hear it even through the window that he and Batgirl were peering into. Yelling back and forth about cleaning and cooking and lots of derogatory name calling. "Rolando 'Rolo' Vazquez. He was there at the arms deal, in charge of it really."

Batgirl looked so angry, watching Rolo throw dishes around his kitchen and scream at a woman there. Jason couldn't really say he was thrilled at the events unfolding before him, but he was comforted by the fact that he would soon be intervening. "He seems charming," she spat out.

Jason smirked. If she kept this attitude up maybe she wouldn't be such a pain to work with. "Oh, he's a real party. Let's introduce you, shall we?"

Within moments, Jason's body was crashing through the window, Batgirl following and Rolo screaming. Screams could be heard from the lady in the other room, but Jason had tuned her out. Leaning back against the kitchen counter, as if pulling away from Jason's charge toward him, Rolo stammered "Hey, you're the guy-"

A sharp knife against his throat cut him off. "Yeah, we've met. This is my lady friend, we're here to teach you some manners." Using his free hand, he grasped the collar of Rolo's jacket and pushed him towards the gaping hole in the window. "Let's go discuss some of those."

It didn't take long to push Rolo to the top of the apartment building, his head hanging over the edge of the building with Jason's knee pressing into his breastplate. With breath harder to come by and his heart racing, Rolo was slowly realizing his limited options in this situation. "Come on, man," he started begging. "I'll die if I get busted talking to you."

"You'll die if you don't talk to me, too," he said. "So I guess the question is, do you want to die now, or do you want to die later?"

Rolo's eyes widened in panic for a brief moment, before he realized what exactly he was dealing with. "She's got a big yellow bat on her chest," he said. The corners of his lips were quirking up in a confident smirk, only serving to infuriate Jason even more. "Last time I checked, that symbol came with a conscience."

Inwardly, Jason groaned. It'd been a great while since he interrogated someone without the threat of death looming over them. But he remembered how, and all he had to do was dig in his memory and find Batman's methods.

Before he got the chance, however, his apparent team mate's fingers wrapped around his shoulder and pulled him off of Rolo. The crook began to sit up, a false victory laying on his shoulders.

"He's right, Hood," Batgirl said. Rolo's smile only grew. "I wouldn't let you kill him."

Irritation settled in the pit of Jason's stomach, his teeth grinding together. It was lucky that his helmet masked his entire face, otherwise his hatred towards her would've been obvious at that exact moment. Batgirl was smart, and most likely saw it in his body language. But someone like Rolo, who was a notorious moron, wouldn't be able to differentiate.

Rolo was shaking dust of his jacket, looking falsely triumphant. Jason would have to come back later and wipe that look off his face, his own way. "But," Batgirl said, stabbing right through Rolo's victory. "I will be sure to let all my sources know that Rolando Vazquez was so helpful in this case, and that we will most definitely come back to him for information, because he gives it up so easy."

Jason was smirking now. Even this trick wasn't in Batman's arsenal. At least, not when Jason trained with him. "The Bat's personal information slut," he observed.

Batgirl was smirking, trying to conceal her laughter. "Exactly," she said. "You know how rumors travel so fast, Rolo. You wouldn't want word getting out that you're a slut, do you?"

Rolo's eyes darted back and forth between Batgirl's smirking face, and Red Hood's expressionless helmet. He was contemplating his options here, even though everyone on the rooftop had reached the same conclusion. It was only a matter of time before it was vocalized.

"If you _do_ help us," Batgirl continued, probably in an effort to speed the process up. "No one will know where the information came from, and you can consider yourself under our protection."

In Gotham, that was one of the best things to hear. The Batman and his gang of misfits, personally watching over and protecting you? In a city that full of low life criminals who trembled at the mention of his name? There was nothing more comforting when you knew exactly what was out there, coming from you. And it wasn't something Batman offered often. Adding to his already huge sense of responsibility was something that Bruce wasn't fond of.

"Alright! Alright!" he consented. "What do you need to know?"

Batgirl smirked, and stepped back, signaling that Jason could take over once more.

Arms folded across his chest, he stepped forward and sized up Rolo. The man was significantly shorter than him, about a foot or so. He was scrawny in the arms and legs and chubby in the midsection. Completely disproportionate. "What were you selling to the Briscolinos?"

"We do a lot of business with the Briscolinos. Keeping the peace," he mumbled.

Jason stepped forward, towering over Rolo. His size alone was enough to intimidate him. "Batman doesn't protect those kind of answers," he said simply. "What was in the crate?"

"Some kind of machines." Rolo said, hatred mixing with fear in his eyes. "Used to be girls, but somehow they turnin' em into fighting machines."

Jason's mind immediately went to Cyborg, the famous half-man half-machine. Whatever process had been done to him was next level stuff, though. Not the kind of operation that Rolando and his colleagues would be able to hide. There had to be a middle man, and even still it couldn't have been anywhere near as sophisticated as Victor's transformation. Whatever was going on here was dangerous, and it was far more than Jason had originally grasped.

Batgirl almost inaudibly gasped, probably in disgust. Figures, Batman's new protégé's wouldn't have a stronger stomach. She was beside him now, pulling him off of Rolando once more. "How'd they do it?" She asked.

Rolo was looking back and forth between the two vigilantes now, most likely second guessing his involvement in their foiling his gang's plan. "Look, I don't know who the girls are, where they came from, or how they got like they are, okay?" he said, holding his hands up. "I just know that Luis got his guys out on the streets looking for easy girls to get, and that sometimes I gotta explain to the Italians why they're not ready yet."

"What do they need girl robots for?" Batgirl asked.

"I don't ask, I just do what I'm told," Rolando said. "What the Italians do behind closed doors is none of my business, you know?"

It was clear he was holding something back. Something about what was happening to these girls.

"Where do the girls go once someone catches them?" Jason asked, fingers twitching. He was aching to throw this guy off the roof, stick a bullet between his eyes, slice him up like yesterday's deli meat. Anything that would hurt him the way he could only imagine those girls were being hurt. "Where are they being kept?"

Rolo smiled, as if he was about to tell his girlfriends in high school some juicy gossip. "See, that's where it gets interesting," he revealed. "The guys up top got some Russian guy out of prison, brought him all the way here to watch over this _particular_ operation." The way the words fell off his tongue made Jason cringe inwardly. "Don't know what his real name is, but that he's just sprung from a prison in Siberia, and they call him The Doctor."

The Red Hood swung his head to look at Batgirl, arms still folded across his chest. Her pose was similar to his, feet shoulder width apart, looking at him with a critical expression. "Is your thirst for knowledge quenched, Batgirl?" He said. His voice was low and muffled through the helmet, just another layer of identification protection from Batgirl.

"Hmmm," she said slowly, her lips pursed together and a finger dangling precariously from her chin. "I believe so. And yours?"

"Oh, most certainly," he said, pulling out his grappling gun. "Thanks Rolo, we'll be in touch about your new Batty insurance plan." He strode over to the edge of the rooftop, Batgirl next to him. Both grappling guns were aimed at the building across the street, ready to fire.

Rolando started walking towards them. "You're not just gonna leave me here, are you?" he asked.

But they were already flying off the roof, quickly firing at separate buildings to gain distance as quickly as possible from Rolando, who was trapped on the rooftop.

Temptation to remove his helmet and enjoy the feeling of the night air flying past his face was eminent, but Batgirl's voice in his ear reminded him why that was not an option.

 _"Meet me on top of the garbage facility_."

Sighing – because it always had to be a rooftop, like vigilantes were constantly playing a game of The Floor is Lava – he followed her around the corner. They'd easily covered a mile, just swinging from their lines through the city, and now were on the border of the warehouse district. On the corner of the street was a two story building: part law firm, part waste company. That's where Batgirl's form came to rest, waiting patiently for him.

His boots crashed hard on the roof, sending a cloud of dust around them as they landed. Bending his knees to absorb the impact, Batgirl's eyes were glued to him now. "What's up, girlie?" he asked as he straightened up. He'd been planning on going home, to drill Barbara about her date that she swears she didn't have. Not to mention that the events of the evening (the fight with Batgirl, crashing through a window, beating up on Rolo, etc.) had his still-fresh bullet wound aching. Whatever Batgirl wanted, it better be good.

"He said they were turning girls into machines," she said. Her hands were on her hips, watching him expectantly. "There's not a lot of places that they would have the kind of tech to make that happen."

"Plus, there's no way Ramos has the kind of money necessary for that kind of gear," he added. Jason had to admit, this was a pretty good reason to keep him away from his bed. If only for a few moments more. "You think the big man has something on this Doctor?"

Batgirl turned away from him, thinking for a moment before motioning him to follow her. "Only one way to find out." Tapping the ear of her cowl, she activated a communicator. "A, I'm coming home." Turning back once more to look at him, she continued. "I've got company, warn the others."

 _ ************LINE BREAKER!************_

 **I hope everyone had a Happy Thanksgiving! Given the extra time off, I made this chapter a bit longer. Hope you like it.**


	7. Chapter 7

"Is this really necessary?" Jason called. His arms were wrapped tightly around Batgirl's waist, leather jacket flapping in the air as they moved through the countryside. Or, he assumed they were in the countryside. Batgirl had taken said leather jacket and tied it around his helmet, effectively blocking his vision. He lost count of turns after Batgirl took him on 50 left turns in a row.

Even though he knew exactly where the Batcave was located, appeasing Batgirl seemed the easiest way to keep his identity concealed. Opening that can of worms wouldn't get him home any faster.

Not to mention he was slightly curious about what the cave looked like these days.

There was an audible difference as they entered the cave, one he knew all too well. The sound of a waterfall growing louder and louder until suddenly it was muffled, and it was obvious that they'd entered the cave behind it. "We're here, you can take the jacket off." Her voice was loud over the weakening sound of the motorcycle engine.

"Your clubhouse cannot possibly be _that_ secretive, princess," he murmured, putting his leg down and untying the leather arms from behind his head.

Upon the return of his vision, he noticed that the cave was slightly different than his last visit. There was now a large steel door blocking off the entrance to the Batcave, Batgirl standing near a small keypad typing some stuff in. A few adventurous kids must have stumbled upon the hidden entrance. Bruce had never been _this_ paranoid. Upon approach, he realized that this keypad also had a thumbpad, which Batgirl's thumb was now pressed to. The screen blipped green, authorizing Batgirl's entry.

"I'll have to authorize you. It'll take a few minutes to get approval," she said. "Especially since you're filed under 'villain' in the computer." At these words, she looked at him over her shoulder, a strange mixture of hatred and smugness in her eyes.

Feeling the exhaustion in his bones and the pain in his arm, Jason sighed and tugged off one of his gloves. "Don't bother," he said, pressing his thumb to the pad.

"Just because you're in his system doesn't mean-" She was cut off short when, once again, the computer blipped green and the steel doors opened wide. The look on her face was one of shock; her eyes popping open almost as wide as her mouth. She seemed to be holding her breath, befuddlement clouding her eyes over. "How-?"

Jason shrugged, using his casual demeanor to mask his inner panic. Had he not been so exhausted he wouldn't have risked his identity like this. "Bats and I worked a case together once."

Judging by the look on her face, it was obvious that she expected more of an explanation. However, Jason was fresh out of excuses as well as patience so he strode back over to the bike and assumed the driving position this time. Passenger wasn't really his style. "Are you coming?" After a brief staring contest, Batgirl climbed on behind him and Jason brought the engine back to life.

A short drive away, the narrow walls of the cave faded away to reveal the huge – and renovated – Batcave. The training center was significantly larger than it had been all those years ago when Jason was Robin. There were two levels now, the top level more like a balcony that wrapped around the circumference of the cave. This upper level seemed to house tools and equipment, as well as several cases. Jason counted at least five cases, and could see several different suits through the reflective glass. The whole cave was lit with a strange pale blue light, coming up from beneath the floor grates and leaking out from hidden places within the rock. By far the most impressive feat was the computer, which had seen huge upgrades since Jason's last visit. A huge monitor spread across most of one wall, surrounded on both sides by smaller (but definitely still large, compared to a _normal_ person's computer) monitors. Since no one was occupying these computers, the screens were blank with the exception of a shiny Bat logo spinning around. Had Jason not been so preoccupied by the awe of the new and improved room, he would have scoffed at Bruce's self-absorption.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Batgirl said.

He turned to look at her. She was standing a few feet behind him, hip cocked out and arms folded across her chest. Her expression was one of pride, the same as a child saying "My dad could beat your dad in a fight". She was waiting for his reaction.

Before he even had time to give her one, however, another voice chimed in.

"Madame," said a crackly old voice, the sway of a British accent leaning on his words. "I've been told to alert you to get what you need and remove your guest."

Jason turned and saw Alfred, for the first time in too many years to remember. His face sagged with the stress of new bad guys and new good guys to worry about. As he always had, he was wearing his usual tux, with a silver serving tray tucked beneath his arm. Surprise and concern crossed his face upon seeing Jason. Undoubtedly, Alfred had heard all the horrible things Jason had done. Was the memory of sweet, almost-innocent Jason before his death even still there? Or had all the murder and blood smeared and tarnished Alfred's memory of his first grandchild?

His stomach seemed to freeze, sending a chill throughout his body. Judging by the sad expression on Alfred's face, he felt the same twinge of despair.

"This is the Red Hood, he won't be staying long." Batgirl had already turned away, fingers typing fast in search of the information she needed.

Alfred continued staring into the helmet, eyes full of hidden sorrow. "I see," he said. His tone was nothing but formal, and had it not been for the circumstances, Jason would've gone too him and hugged him as he used to. But he couldn't.

This wasn't his home anymore, and Alfred wasn't his grandfather anymore.

"Why is he here at all?"

A new voice to break the horrible moment. Perfect.

The sounds carried down to Jason, originating from somewhere upwards, on the second level of the cave. His eyes followed the sound, and was only mildly surprised to see the black clad individual standing atop the balcony.

Shiny rubber padding clung to his body, almost accentuating the muscles bulging from his skin. Long, lean legs and a graceful stance, the acrobatic ability was obvious just in the way he positioned himself. So was the incredible tension held by those muscles. As Jason's eyes traveled upwards, the blue bird splattered across the chest caught his attention. It spanned all the way down his arms, coloring his two middle fingers blue to contrast the black. A domino mask was perched across his face, emphasizing the Batman worthy scowl he wore.

In his mind, Jason always thought he would meet Nightwing on a rooftop somewhere. They'd fight over right and wrong, as heroes and almost-heroes always do, but ultimately Jason would come out on top and Nightwing would either die at the end of his gun or Bruce would rush in and save him.

Nightwing had been Robin when Jason was reincarnated. It hadn't been difficult to deduce his identity as Dick Grayson. Bruce Wayne adopts an orphaned circus boy mere months before a new Robin is on the scene? Coincidences like that are unheard of. When he made the jump to Nightwing it was a bit harder to follow, but eventually Jason worked it out. The new Robin's identity was unknown to him, however.

"Ah, Nightwing," Jason observed. "I thought you were stirring the pond over in Bludhaven?"

The hero in question used his grip on the railing of the balcony and somersaulted over it, turning into a graceful front flip until he landed harshly a few feet in front of Jason.

Sensing the challenge, Jason's stance changed to match the mood. His chest puffed out beneath his crossed arms, feet positioned wider apart. Even from this distance, he could see that he was not only taller than Nightwing, but also broader in the shoulders.

"As if you're one to talk," Nightwing pointed out. "You've been on a murder streak in almost every country now, haven't you Hood?" The hero mimicked Jason's pose, muscles still tense.

"Just need South Africa now," Jason quipped.

Batgirl could be heard sighing in exasperation. "Play nice, it'll only take me a few minutes to get these files."

A few minutes didn't sound like much, but in Jason's exhausted body it felt like it would probably be years. After fighting Batgirl, interrogating Rolo, and sprinting around Gotham for hours, Jason could think of nothing better than a few laughs with Barbara before bed. The muscles in his arm were screaming at him and his body sagged with fatigue.

But he'd been in worse shape and finished a case before. Once, he chased an assassin through Tokyo with a metal pipe in his leg.

Nightwing was within arm's length now, chin pointed upwards and arms tensely folded across the chest. He could see his fingers twitching anxiously, ready to reach for the little sticks strapped to his back. The white lenses in his mask were narrowed, speculating Jason's body language and tiny movements just as thoroughly as Jason was speculating his.

With every perceived threat, Nightwing took a step forward. Most would take a step backwards, especially given Jason's dominating size.

 _Batman raises a special kind of child though,_ Jason thought.

"I've seen your work, Hood," Nightwing challenged.

Beneath his mask, Jason was smirking. "And I suppose you have a critique ready for me like every other member of this demented little family?" A short distance behind Nightwing, Alfred could be seen. He was watching the two of them, wrinkles in his forehead spelling out what Jason knew deep in his heart. _This is_ _ **your**_ _demented little family._

Nightwing smirked now, his unmasked mouth free for Jason's eyes to analyze. To emphasize his challenge he took another step forward, nearly closing the distance between the two bodies. "You're sloppy," he growled, his voice a low snarl. He was mere inches away from Jason, close enough that Batgirl couldn't hear their conversation but far enough that he wouldn't have to tilt upwards to look at him. "You're untrained, violent, aggressive, and not worth Batman's time. Why he hasn't locked you up in Arkham yet is _beyond_ me."

"Do you use that insult on every vigilante who operates differently than you do, Wonder Boy?" Jason said. He moved past Nightwing, their shoulders barely touching as he did. His curiosity was getting the better of him, and he didn't know when the next time he'd be in Batman's lair would be. "I've probably got more training than you do. I've been in the game longer."

His movements were an obvious attempt to leave the conversation. Normally, a battle of wits (or his hands, whichever it came to) with any Batbrat would be great fun. But Jason's mind was slow turning with fatigue, and he had crossed his arms so tight that his bullet wound began throbbing.

Now his focus was exploring.

"So what do you guys have up here?" he called over his shoulder as he jogged up the steps to the second-floor balcony. He could hear Dick just a step or two behind him, following closely to either stop him or watch him.

He was first met with cases and tables full of tools and gadgets. This must be where Bruce and the rest of the gang stalked up before patrol. On one table alone there were three half emptied utility belts, a large pile of batarangs, a completely unraveled grapple gun, and a small pile of smoke bombs.

As he walked by, he ran his fingers across each of the items, picking up a few smoke bombs and tossing them over his shoulder. He heard Nightwing catch them and put them back on the table, as well as sigh angrily when his target continued on his leisurely stroll. Now he was coming up on what had captured his attention since his arrival in the cave.

The glass cases.

There had been no glass cases when Jason lived here. Bruce had kept the suits hidden in drawers, in a room off the training area of the cave, in a secret compartment in his closet. Not on display like this. Now that Jason was close and personal, he saw that there were five cases, each housing a different superhero costume. These costumes had been retired long ago, judging by the dust collecting on the fabric, and the pristine cleanliness of the glass.

Even Alfred couldn't keep frequently smudged glass clean.

The first housed a Robin suit, most probably Dick's retired suit. The second housed a different Robin suit (this one with pants), which would be the third Robin's retired suit. The third held a blue and grey version of Batgirl's costume.

The fourth was different… special. The costume of an unknown superhero, with a purple hood and black face mask. This one looked particularly pristine, as if Bruce had stared at it for too long too many times. It had a golden plaque stuck to the glass in the center.

 _In Memoriam of Stephanie Brown._

Bruce had a whole graveyard full of kids, apparently.

How had the old man let her down? Stephanie Brown. Who had she been? Why had she gotten involved with someone like Bruce knowing that the children in his care were doomed to a fiery death? Suddenly Jason wanted to know her. He wanted to meet her and learn about her and more than anything he wanted to know what happened to her.

But he never would. Coming back from the dead was a very exclusive club, it seemed.

The last case, the fifth one in the line-up, housed a Robin costume. Not just any Robin costume. This one had a red chest plate with yellow stitching down the chest, the italicized R emblem bold yellow in a circle of green on the left breast. A yellow cape was clipped onto the shoulders of the costume, hanging down, coming to an end just past the bright yellow utility belt. Short green sleeves were nearly hidden in this cape, as were the green gloves. The red domino mask hung where the eyes of the costume's wearer would be.

This was Jason's costume. From before he died.

A similar gold plaque was bolted to the glass of this case as well.

 _Robin. Soldier. Hero._

A cocktail of emotions were swirling around in Jason's brain right now. Shock: why would Bruce leave a memorial up for him, after all that he'd done? After everything that had happened, Bruce had left this monument stand in honor of Jason. Anger: the realization that it wasn't _honor_ that compelled him to leave this up. No, this case and seemingly sincere plaque stood here as a warning to all who had taken up the mantle after Jason. Nightwing, Red Robin, and now the other Robin. This existed because Jason was nothing but an example, a cautionary tale of what happened to children of the Bat. What happened to the bad seeds. Sadness: wondering how long this case had stood here. How long after his death did Bruce erect this case? How many times had he contemplated taking it down since Jason's return? Was he ashamed of his eldest son? Was that why his name was not on the plaque, like Stephanie Brown's name was?

"You could just take a picture you know." Nightwing's voice brought Jason back to reality, the reality where he'd been staring at his own suit for probably several moments too long. "You shouldn't even be in here, near these suits."

Jason turned, wiping away the emotions that seemed to be piling up inside him with another of his signature smirks. "And why's that, pixie boots?" He crossed his arms once more as he turned to face his successor, ignoring the sharp pain in his arm. "Worried I'll taint the memory of your dead kids?"

Jason slammed back into the cass, Nightwing's forearm pressed into his throat painfully. If his arm. His lips were curled in a snarl, his free hand pinning Jason's wrist to the case behind him, preventing him from effectively drawing his weapon. "Don't you _dare_ talk about them like that," he said, his tone venomous. "They were more hero than you could ever hope to be."

Smirk still on his hidden features, Jason twisted his neck beneath the pressure. "You don't know how funny that really is, do you wing nut?"

"Let him go," Batgirl called, annoyance more than concern in her voice. "I'm almost done here. Just play nice for five more minutes."

Growling, Nightwing pushed into Jason and released him. Tension was evident in the boy's body now, no efforts being made to conceal it. Flexing his muscles and his minorly bruised pride, Jason sized himself up to the boy scout. "So, you sure do listen to everything Batgirl says," he observed.

Nightwing crossed his arms, turning his back to Jason as he began making his way off the second level. "Yeah, that's how teamwork works."

Ignoring Nightwing's obvious disregard to the Outlaws, Jason followed closely behind him. "Not any teams I've been in," he muttered. "Which raises the question: You fuckin Batgirl or what?"

Before Jason had even a moment to regret his words – which, if he's being honest, he wouldn't have regretted them anyway – Nightwing had turned and punched his jaw, forcing his head to flop to the side. His body quickly followed, the railing pushing into his hips as he was thrust against it. He felt a pounding sensation in between his shoulder blades, before Nightwing's foot wrapped around his ankle and lurched his body forward.

Jason barely had time to reach his arm backwards and grab Nightwing's calf before his body was flung the several feet down towards the harsh ground. Jason's sudden weight pulling on Nightwing forced him off his feet. Nightwing's legs dangled through the rails in the ledge, lowering Jason's body about two feet.

Now only ten feet from the ground, Jason felt completely confident that he could land the fall.

Until Nightwing's other foot slammed into the face of his mask.

Jason was falling now, mere seconds until he landed on the ground face up. Nightwing leapt over the railing after him, pulling out his Eskrima sticks. Time was moving slower for the next few seconds, giving Jason enough time to formulate an almost-plan.

Mid-air, he started to barrel roll, scrambling to move himself out from beneath Nightwing's weight before he slammed onto the floor. If luck was on his side the landing wouldn't be too painful, and he would have maybe two seconds before Nightwing swung one of his sticks straight for Jason's head, most probably.

The ground was cold against the heat of his wound, but he had no time to nurse it. Soon, just as he predicted, Dick's weapons were crashing down on the ground where Jason's head had been just a moment before.

His leg swung around in what seemed to be an attempt to throw Nightwing off balance. But, again as Jason had predicted, Nightwing leapt over his leg leaving him vulnerable. Jason jumped up and charged before his opponent's feet had touched the ground. Nightwing's airborne body bent over his shoulder, weighing him down but not stopping him from tackling him to the ground. With each movement his bullet wound screamed in agony, and with a final heave he pushed Nightwing's body off his back and thrust him onto the floor, knocking the wind out of him.

Using first his wounded arm, he wrapped his hand around Nightwing's throat and pressed his body weight into him. Then he raised his other hand, clenched firmly into a fist, and prepared to bring it down hard.

Until something metal slapped into his wrist, throwing his body weight backwards until he fell off of Nightwing all together.

" _ **Enough.**_ "

Jason looked up to see both Batgirl and Alfred staring at them in frustration, and standing in between them was the head of the demented little family himself.

Batman.

Nightwing stood up and brushed himself off, reminding Jason of a high school boy who just lost his first fist fight. He walked past Batman, into the depths of the cave. "Why are you here?"

"Have I ever mentioned how much I love your voice when it gets all gravelly?" Jason quipped.

The Dark Knight stared on, face a mixture of anger and an emotionless statue. Briefly, Jason contemplated how that was possible, but he didn't give it a lot of thought. He had more important matters at hand. "Leave," Batman said.

Without giving him time to retort, Batgirl grabbed Jason's jacket collar and dragged him out.

"God," Dick exclaimed, standing a short distance behind Batman. "Who even is this guy?"

Silently, Bruce moved toward the computer and pulled up the security footage, watching Batgirl leave with Red Hood in tow. He closed the doors behind them, before pulling his cowl off his head and pulling up the security access panels.

Following suit and pulling his domino mask off, Dick leaned on the computer, his eyebrows raised. "Why aren't you answering? Bruce, do you know who this guy is?"

Looking up at his middle son, Bruce allowed the slightest smirk to cross his features, if only for a moment. "Do you really wanna know?" He asked.

Dick nodded frantically, waiting for his mentor to say something.

Instead, Bruce gestured toward the screen where it showed who had used the access panels that evening, displaying Barbara Gordon dressed as Batgirl next to her thumbprint, and immediately beneath her was a photo of a dark haired boy, no more than fifteen. He had a mischievous smile and shaggy bangs that almost completely covered his red mask.

"No… way…" Dick whispered, mouth dropping at the realization.

 _Jason Todd is the Red Hood_.

He looked back at Bruce, any semblance of a smile gone from his face. Jason Todd was the name of Barbara's new roommate, the one who'd moved to Gotham to live with her. Based on that photograph, Jason Todd was also the Robin who'd taken up the mantle first, the one who'd died in battle, the monument they'd all grown up avoiding.

 _Jason Todd is the Red Hood._

"Don't tell her," Bruce said.


	8. Chapter 8

"I can't believe you," Jason moaned from the couch. Small beads of sweat were dripping down his forehead, dampening his hair just enough for Barbara to notice from her place in the kitchen. His Gotham Knights hoodie seemed unnecessary when he was sweating so badly on the couch, and briefly Barbara wondered if he was wearing a shirt beneath it…

She grinned at him over the brown paper bag that she was unloading onto the counter. "What?" she chuckled.

In his hands he had the white Styrofoam box that Barbara had just handed him, wet and covered in condensation from the steam of a fresh quesadilla. "You didn't get the pico de gallo, did you?" His body was sprawled across the couch, laying on his stomach with his legs spread across the cushions and his head laying on the arm rest. "You have known me for, like, five years now, and you should know by now that I can't enjoy a quesadilla without proper pico. It should be the first on your list, my dear."

Crumpling the paper bag and tossing it out, she picked up her own Styrofoam box and made her way to the couch. Huffing her breath out of her nose, she asked him, "Are you gonna move?"

"No," he said, sounding a bit too much like a drama queen to seem sincere. "You're being punished for forgetting my pico. _**Again**_."

Barbara rolled her eyes so hard that she worried they'd fall right out of her and scatter across the hardwood floor. "Get over yourself, Todd," she muttered, plopping down on the back of his knees.

A strange noise between _oof_ and _mmph_ came out of Jason's mouth as her weight pressed down on him, but he did not yield his spot to her. She wiggled her hips, his hairy legs colliding with her smooth ones. "I can't, I'd trip over my ego."

His skin was burning hot against hers, almost as if he was burning a fever. "Jay, why don't you take off your hoodie?" She said, the image of him shirtless flashing through her mind once more. "You're excessively hot."

He looked over her shoulder at her. "Why thank you, Barbie," he said, flashing her the smirk she was slowly growing to hate. Suddenly it wasn't only Jason's skin that was very hot. "But no, I can't be all indecent and exposed around you. Not until you buy me dinner."

Again, Barbara found herself rolling her eyes. "I buy dinner all the time, you ass."

He shushed her, pulling his legs out from under her and taking a bite of his quesadilla with one hand while pointing to the TV with the other. "Pay attention," he said, mouthful of cheese.

The TV was currently showing a commercial, one for a new action movie that had just come out a few weeks prior. _Jason seems like the action movie type_ , Barbara thought. The last movie theater she'd been in had been with Dick, and it seemed like it'd been years ago. Perhaps it had been years ago. Her social life had declined significantly since their breakup.

Seeing a movie with Jason sounded more than pleasurable. She'd really wanted to see this movie, and it wasn't her night to patrol. Barbara could've sworn she remembered that Jason said that he'd had the night off. But what if he had plans? What if he didn't want to spend any more time with Barbara? They did live together after all. It wouldn't be unreasonable for Jason to want to have the night to himself. It's not like Barbara couldn't find better things to do.

"Jay?" She said, her voice an octave higher than usual.

His cheeks were full of food, chewing noisily on his quesadilla. "Yeah?" he asked. His words were muffled by the food in his mouth.

Barbara couldn't stop herself from smiling at the dumb look on his face as she asked the question. "You wanna go see that movie tonight?"

His eyebrows shot up in surprise, his chewing drastically slowed. "That movie?" he asked. "I thought you hated action movies."

She scoffed. "I don't hate action movies. Action is one of my favorite genres, you big boob." She was smirking behind her own Styrofoam box, watching Jason as he contemplated the movie. "We've been friends for five years and you don't even know what kind of movies I like." Her voice was low, mimicking his from before.

Jason shoved his pointed finger into her arm accusingly. "No!" He shouted, loudly swallowing the half-chewed quesadilla in his mouth. "You told me one time that you hated action stars!" He had a smile on his face, as if he'd just outdone himself, overwhelmed Barbara with proof.

"Because I do!" She exclaimed, holding a finger to her lips in an effort to prevent the food from falling out. "Every action star is just another huge macho man! I want more female leads in action movies," Barbara said, refocusing on her food.

The two laughed together for a moment, each with mouthfuls of Mexican food while the TV continued on quietly airing the show they'd been watching.

Barbara looked over at Jason. When their eyes met, his expression softened. A small smile replaced the mischievous smirk, lighting his beautiful "Barbie, I would love to go see that movie with you tonight," he said. She couldn't help the way her cheeks lifted up in an eager grin. "But I cannot. I have to do something tonight," he lamented. "You free tomorrow?"

Trying to disguise her disappointment, Barbara smiled. "We'll see," before turning back towards the TV.

This was for the best, she had to tell herself that. There were fourteen missing girls out there and they were running out of time. Barbara knew she could never live with herself if any of those girls got hurt because she took a night off to go on a date instead of continuing the search for them.

So, this was for the best. Barbara had to believe that. She could explore her relationship with Jason after those girls were home safe.

 _ ************LINE BREAKER!************_

"I don't know what it is," Barbara said, scanning her computer screen. She had her shoulder pressing her phone against her cheek, hands busy at work moving information across the screen as fast as she could process it.

Through the phone, a scratchy voice spoke back to her. "About what? Your case or your roommate?"

Dick's tone of voice had an edge to it, one that Barbara couldn't quite place. "Both," she said, furrowing her brows at her best friend. "What's up your butt?"

A pause, before, "Nothing." Dick sighed into the phone. "You just have a huge crush on a guy you know nothing about, and you're working on a case with a dangerous psychopath who you also know nothing about."

Barbara found herself smiling. "Richard Grayson, if I didn't know any better I'd say you were jealous," she commented. "Jason is mysterious, and cute. But I did not call you to talk about my love life."

Sighing once more, Dick relented. "Yeah, I know," he said. Barbara could practically hear the smirk on his face. "You called because you need my genius."

"There's just something we're obviously missing here," Barbara said. "I just can't figure out what the key is."

It was true. Barbara had been searching through these files all afternoon. After Jason had left for the evening to go about his plans (which he wouldn't tell Barbara about, leading her to the obvious conclusion that he had a date and she was totally not bothered by that at all) she had locked herself in her room and been reviewing the files on the Doctor, but even Bruce's seemingly infinite database was particularly dry about this strange man. All that could be found was that he came from Russia, he had been kicked out of medical school (reasons unknown), and his last stop was in Star City where he had a run in with the Green Arrow.

"You could ask Ollie," Dick suggested. "He's gotta know something."

Barbara squeezed her eyes shut and pinched the bridge of her nose. "No, I already called him. He didn't know much." She flicked through the information once more, seeing nothing new. "The guy got busted hustling thugs and stealing their money. Nothing fancy."

"He had a clean record though, right?" Dick said. There was a loud crash, followed by mumblings of _damn slippery pot_. After Barbara's chuckle, and affirming tone, Dick said, "How did he hustle gangsters then?"

"Maybe he'd just never been caught before," she theorized, despite knowing how unlikely that was.

Dick seemed to know it too. "Come on, Babs," he scoffed. "You know beginners always get caught." The sounds of his cooking traveled through the phone, making Barbara hungry despite having already eaten dinner. "So if this guy didn't get caught until he was already hustling the top scumbags, it's a safe bet that's where he started."

Barbara parted her lips just enough for the pen cap she was chewing on. "So how did he do it?"

 _They're making teenage girls into machines_.

"I think I got something. Dick I gotta go."

 _ ************LINE BREAKER!************_

Years in this city. He'd been _born_ in this city, and still, the frigid winters surprised him. The breeze on the streets was bad enough, but when the sun went down and everyone in spandex moved to the rooftops, the chilling breeze turned into freezing winds and became immeasurably colder. Even the gloves covering his hands weren't quite enough to keep feeling in his fingertips.

Cramming his numb fingers into his jacket pockets, he waited. He'd been here for fifteen minutes. Jason expected his former mentor at least ten minutes ago, and was growing tired of waiting.

His presence on top of Wayne Enterprises would set off at least a million alarms in the Batcave, so someone had to know he was up there. Jason's lengthy time up on the rooftop proved that he was only here to talk, and yet Batman hadn't shown up.

Was Jason being stood up?

That would be ridiculous.

"What?"

And also untrue, apparently.

"You're late, Bruce," Jason said. "Are you getting old or did you just decide I wasn't high on your priority list?"

Face unmoving – like always – Batman tensed his muscles, waiting for some surprise attack from his undead protégé. "It's a quarter till midnight, Jason." His voice was monotone, and somehow anger still managed to seethe from each syllable. "Why are you here and what do you want?"

Smirking to himself, Jason crossed his arms. "What happened to wanting me to come home? Or did that all change when I started a fight with the Golden Boy?" He leaned forward on his toes, sticking his chin out at Batman. "A fight I easily would've won, I might add."

"Jason-"

"Look," Jason interrupted, really not wanting to hear Bruce repeat himself for the third time. "I'm looking for these missing girls and I don't have a lot of leads, and I kind of need you on my side for this. So, I'm sorry for beating up daddy's boy," he muttered, looking away. An apology he was reluctant to give, but a necessary one nonetheless.

Bruce smirked slightly, an unprecedented action when he wore the cowl. "I'd help you regardless, Jason," Bruce said. "Fourteen girls are missing."

A spark of anger flickered through Jason's eyes, followed shortly by a twinge of heartache. "Yeah, I'm sure," he mumbled. "Always so eager to help me out, right Bruce?" He removed his hands from his pockets, fidgeting with the helmet until it had been removed completely from his head. Now he was staring Bruce in the face, only praying that the older man couldn't see the pain in his eyes as he stared back.

Jason pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, bringing one to his lips and lighting it. The first drag immediately steadied his breath, settling the angry hurricane that was stirring in his chest.

Batman's mouth sagged slightly in hopelessness, lips parting just enough to let out a soft sigh. "That's not what I meant," he said softly. "Jason I'd help you with any case you needed help on."

Jason took another drag off his cigarette, scowling at Batman through the smoke. "Let me ask you something, Bruce," he said, exhaling. The smoke mixed with the puff of his warm breath in the air and distorted his view. "Would you help me the same way you'd help Dick? Or that new poor bastard you got running around in the spandex?"

He could see Bruce contemplating it, lips pursing shut once more before they opened in an effort to respond. No words came out, however. He went through this process a few times before solemnly staring at Jason, speechless.

Scoffing to himself, Jason threw his finished cigarette towards the edge of the roof, embers flying through the air following it, scattering about when it crashed into the rooftop. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

"Jason, why do you always look for reasons to ruin our relationship?" Bruce asked, sternness and anger prevalent in his voice.

The young man looked to his former mentor with extreme scorn, agitated thoughts zipping through his mind faster than he could process them. "I don't have to look very hard, Bruce," he said. "You just keep shoving them in my face." Bruce couldn't possibly think that their newfound neighborhood similarities excused all the heartache that he'd caused, all the pain he'd refused to stop.

Batman turned to leave, swooshing his cape behind him in anger. Jason opened his mouth, the urge to stop him on the tip of his tongue.

"Da-"

No matter how badly Jason wanted Bruce to stay, or to go with him, he couldn't. The betrayal ran too deep, there was too much bad blood between them now. Whatever they'd once had, as father and son or mentor and protégé, they clearly no longer had it. Batman could never undo his action – or lack thereof – after Jason's death, and he could never make up for his apathy towards his son's murderer. No matter what, Jason and Bruce would _never_ be family again.

Bruce had turned back to look at him, an expectant expression on his face. "What, Jason?" His tone was still angry, but still gentler than before. "What?"

Jason closed his eyes and furrowed his brows, pulling his helmet out from beneath his arm. "Just-" He was cut off as he placed the helmet back on his head to hear his comm. link beeping. It was Batgirl.

"Oh my god, finally you answer." She said through the static. "I've been looking for you everywhere."

"Well you got me, beautiful. What's up?" He said, turning his back to Bruce, grateful for the break from the weight of the conversation.

Batgirl audibly sighed, and Jason could hear the sound of her firing her grappling gun. She really must've been searching for him everywhere. "I found something. Can you meet me?"

"Yeah, send your coordinates." He hung up and turned back toward Batman, still waiting for Jason to complete his sentence. The caped crusader watched, waiting for Jason's completed thoughts. A look of understanding crossed his face at the silence. "I gotta-"

"Another time, son." Bruce said, smiling and leaping off the roof again.

Jason suppressed a smile, and followed suit.


	9. Chapter 9

The night was chilly, but her body heat radiated off the insulation of her armor, keeping her safe and toasty. Her mind was all over the place, not where it needed to be. Not on the mission. It was hard to stay focused, she'd been her for twenty minutes waiting for the Red Hood and her personal matters were making their way to the forefront of her mind.

 _I could've been at a movie_ , she thought.

But, it would've been unwise to go on a date with Jason, presuming he was on a date right now. Barbara absentmindedly wondered what the kind of girl Jason asked on dates was like. Was she a bookworm? A total badass like Jason? The kind of girl who wore flower crowns?

"You take forever."

Batgirl spun quickly, unaware that the Red Hood had snuck up on her. _Get your head in the game, Barb._ "I was here first, idiot."

Red Hood was tucking his grapple gun back into his utility belt as he approached her. "Yeah but you picked somewhere like twenty minutes away from where I was."

"That doesn't explain why it took you thirty minutes to get here," she shot back. Once again, Barbara was endlessly annoyed by the shiny red helmet blocking her vision from his facial expressions. Maybe Dick was right. She knew nothing about the Red Hood and that was something she should be wary of. But for some reason, despite her hatred and annoyance of this mysterious man, Barbara was strangely comfortable around him.

Red Hood was now within arm's length of her. He smelt of cigarettes and gun powder, his usual aroma. "So are you going to tell me this master plan of yours or did I run all the way across town for no reason?"

Rolling her eyes in annoyance, Barbara began to explain herself. "Okay, so I was going through these files on the Doctor with Nightwing-"

"What, like, during sex?" he interrupted.

Barbara's mouth dropped in disbelief while she punched him in the shoulder. "Fuck off," she groaned. "For your information, I have a civilian boy." She set her hands on her hips, defiance and anger burning in her chest. "Normalcy is beyond attractive when I'm surrounded by idiots like you."

The Hood scoffed from within his helmet. His arms folded across his chest, and once more Barbara wanted to see the face beneath that shield.

Smirking, Barbara mimicked his stance. "You sound jealous, Hood," she said, leaning towards him a bit. "Did you think your constant repulsiveness would eventually charm me into bed with you?"

He looked away, scoffing once more. "No, you've probably got all kinds of cooties," he mumbled. "But now that I've seen Nightwing's ass in person, I would've blame you for tapping that."

Rolling her eyes, she mumbled another quiet comment about how vile he was, before pulling out a tablet and turning on the screen. " _Anyways_ ," she said, irritation evident in her voice. "I was going through these files with Nightwing, and something came up."

A photo of a bald man appeared on the screen. He had one salt and pepper eyebrow raised and a long scar down his right cheek, almost like a permanent tear drop. Large, permanently pursed lips were smirking, holding up a sign. It read _Anatoly Popov._ His pale skin reflected the cold of Siberia, as did the chilling grey of his eyes. His nose was large and lumpy, giving his already unappealing face a worse appearance.

"This is the Doctor," she introduced.

"I'd hate to see him at a checkup," Hood mumbled.

Rolling her eyes at the unnecessary comment, Barbara scrolled through to his criminal report from Star City. "He got busted manipulating thugs and stealing from them in Star City about six months ago. That's the only crime on his record though," she said, scrolling through various pictures of the crime reports. "Which made me wonder, how did he go from good Samaritan to hustling the best hustlers in Star?"

Hood was watching her expectantly, waiting for her to continue. "So is this where we start playing Pictionary and I'm guessing his crimes or what?"

Barbara was hurriedly scrolling through the report on her tablet, finding the correct words. "I called Green Arrow, asked him what had happened." Finally, she turned the screen back to face her reluctant partner. "All he could remember is that the hustlers were _completely_ different after the police talked to them. Almost like zombies."

Hood thoughtfully placed his fingers around the chin of his helmet, and for the third time that evening Barbara was wishing that she could yank off his helmet and see his smug face. "So, what? They were scared of him?"

Smirking, she gestured towards the screen in her hand. "Not nearly. Look at the tox screens for the thugs."

He did, leaning in close to read the fine print. "Holy shit," he murmured, voice muffled through the mask.

"Off the charts," Barbara replied. The data showed an unknown toxin in their bloodstreams, almost more toxin than blood. After two months, the thugs showed no more signs of the toxin, but their behavior was still altered. "They never figured out what the drug was, and they were never able to find a cure without the actual drug. For some reason, the SCPD never put two and two together pinning the toxin on the Doctor."

"Not like it would've mattered," Red Hood huffed. "Says here he didn't even end up doing any jail time."

Barbara nodded solemnly. "Yeah, he escaped before the trial was complete." Hood took a step back, turning away from her and preparing his grapple gun. "Uhm, where are you going?"

A shiny red mask turned to look at her over his shoulder. "Well, I'd be willing to bet that Ramos is a huge drug supplier to this insane scientist," he said, shoulders slacking. "So we've got to find out what kind of drugs we're dealing with, wouldn't you think?"

Barbara's face dropped for half a second, but still long enough for her nemesis to notice. "Yeah, that doesn't tell me where you're going though."

Without seeing him, or hearing him, Barbara could tell that the Hood was smirking. "I thought that part was obvious, Bat Brat," he scoffed. "I'm going to go do my own kind of research." And with that, he was gone.

 _ ************LINE BREAKER!************_

The keys were heavy in his hand, especially with the added weight of exhaustion and the pain of his still fresh wound. He had research to do tomorrow about Ramos' drugs, but tonight he needed to sleep. Since he started this case he's been having to work around Batgirl's schedule, on top of his own usual routine. Nothing he couldn't handle, but annoying nonetheless.

The metallic jingle of his keys was music to his ears as he swung the door open and walked inside. Only to hear _actual_ music in his ears.

Very **loud** music in his ears. Loud enough that Jason was surprised he hadn't heard it from the hallway.

The living room of his shared apartment was roommate free, but he could see her shadow from around the kitchen corner, and whatever was going on in there smelt fantastic. Dropping his keys on the coffee table he made his way to the bar to see what she was cooking. What he actual saw was even better.

Barbara Gordon was standing in the kitchen wearing a Gotham University sweater, a pair of lacey red panties, and nothing else. She was currently bent over the stove, reaching something in the cupboard above. Her thighs were pale and powerful, toned muscles showing in every graceful movement. With her arms stretched above her head, the sweater rose to the small of her back, exposing the seemingly perfect curve of her ass.

Jason's heartbeat increased significantly, and suddenly he wasn't exhausted anymore. As much as he tried not to stare, she was beyond beautiful, she was half naked, and she was making him dinner. Barbara was a monument right now.

She hadn't seen him yet, and the music was too loud for her to have heard him come in. But the song was almost over and soon she'd be done digging for spices and would have to see him.

Leaning his elbows against the bar, he waited for the music to die down and tried to regain his composure, though he could still feel the bright red in his face. "Hey," he said, a smirk toying with his lips and one eyebrow raised.

 _Play it cool, Todd._

He had _not_ expected Barbara to freak out, pick up a kitchen knife, and slam it down right where his hand was just a minute prior. Had Jason's reflexes been even slightly out of practice, he'd be pinned to the bar right now and Barbara would be crying. The smirk was gone as was the attempt to play it cool. Now pure shock splayed across his face.

"What the fuck, Barbara," he whispered.

"Oh my god, Jason!" she shouted. "How the hell did you get in here?!" She pulled the knife out of the bar and put it back on the counter, moving around the corner of the kitchen to see her roommate.

Jason looked at her, exasperated. "I have a key, Barb! I live here!" His hands were in his hair, eyes wide. _She almost stabbed me!_ "A knife? Really?"

Barbara's face sagged with guilt. "You scared me, I'm sorry."

The way she was looking at him, almost suspicious. Barbara was a police commissioner's daughter. She'd been trained her entire life how to defend herself, especially living in Gotham. Especially after the wheelchair incident. Barbara was more than capable of defending herself against an average robber.

But not Jason Todd, actual assassin zombie vigilante. He was trained above the average robber, and Barbara couldn't comprehend how he'd dodged her so quickly.

Judging by the look on her face, she wasn't going to say anything about it. Something for which Jason was grateful.

"Hey, Barbie?" he murmured, continuing his blank expression.

"Yes?" Barbara murmured, continuing her guilty expression.

A smirk crept onto his face before he could complete the sentence. "You know you're not wearing pants, right?"

The smirk turned into a crooked smile as Barbara's cheeks turned a bright red, realization hitting her like a freight train. He could see the urge on her face to sprint to her room and throw something on, or even pull the sweater down to cover herself. But then the embarrassment on her face melted away, shifting quickly to determination. "Yes, Jason," she said, rolling her eyes. " _Obviously,_ I knew that."

Classic sneer still firmly in place, Jason put his hands on his knees and leaned towards her. "You sure you don't wanna go put some pants on? I wouldn't blame you," his tone was almost a challenge, but his words also held some truth.

She crossed her arms, her resolve growing stronger. "Nope. I'm just fine like this, thank you very much."

Jason turned and stepped forward, almost closing the distance between them. Her eyes beamed up into his, strong and confident and challenging. "Fine," he said, stepping back once more. His fingers went to work on his belt, pulling the leather free from his jeans and placing it on the bar.

Her conviction was replaced by confusion as he fiddled with his zipper. "Uh, what are you doing?" she said, trying to stop the wavering of her voice.

With a final push, Jason's jeans fell to the floor and he stepped out of them. "If you don't want to wear pants, then I don't want to wear pants." Kicking his pants across the floor, Jason shrugged off his jacket as well. "So… you wanna watch a movie?"

 _ ************LINE BREAKER!************_

Jason Todd was sitting next to her on the couch. With a chip bowl in his almost-naked lap.

 _Jason Todd was sitting next to her on the couch almost naked_.

Barbara was trying to pay attention to the movie, she'd downloaded it just for a night such as this one, but it was so difficult. She knew he'd seen the way her eyes watched him undress. It was difficult to refrain from checking him out. He had incredible thighs, and an amazing ass, and Barbara would be lying if she said she hadn't _accidentally_ looking to see if she could see his crotch through his grey boxer briefs.

The more she thought about it, the more she wanted to look again. But the more she wanted to look again, the more embarrassed she became. It took a great deal of effort to keep her eyes straight forward on the TV, occasionally reaching for a handful of chips out of the bowl.

In her defense, the last time she'd been with a man like that was Dick Grayson, and that had been years ago. There'd been other men here and there, but none like Jason. It'd been so long, Barbara was tempted to make a move on her roommate, ignoring all complications that that would bring. Realistically, Barbara knew she could never sleep with her roommate. That'd be absurd. But sitting half naked on a couch with him? It was becoming less absurd by the minute.

She drew her attention towards the TV once more, in an effort to block the images of Jason standing over her out of her mind. Unfortunately, she received no such reprieve. The screen showed a woman writhing in the sheets, the macho manly man of the movie kissing down her stomach while she clutched at the sheets around her.

Suddenly, without her consent, her mind conjured the same image, the actors replaced with her and Jason. Her cheeks turning beet red, her skin burning from within. She could feel her muscles twitching, aching to be touched.

She wanted a drink, preferably a strong one, but they had no alcohol in the apartment and a soda didn't sound satisfying. But a distraction was required to calm her senses, and there was a perfectly available bowl of chips right next to her. It would be easy to reach down and grab a handful. _Come on, Barbara_ , she thought. _Just grab some chips._

But when she expected to find crunching chips beneath her fingers, she found cloth.

Embarrassment flooded her cheeks, her neck snapping with how quickly she looked over at Jason. After that brief movement, her muscles locked up on her, humiliation keeping her in place. Slowly, Jason's head turned to look at her too, a mischievous grin on his lips.

"You missed," he whispered.

Had they been this close all night? They hadn't felt this close when she was watching the TV. Maybe now that she was looking into his eyes it just seemed closer, like his eyes had a gravitational effect on her. Sucking her in.

The same eyes that were pulling her towards him just flitted down to her lips. Did Jason want this as bad as Barbara did? He had to. Barbara was gorgeous and Jason was not blind.

Suddenly he was kissing her and she was kissing him back. His lips were soft and gentle. But at the same time they were rough and needy. His fingers wrapped around the back of her neck, keeping her lips glued to his. She heard the bowl clank loudly against the coffee table and his arm wrapped around her midsection, pulling her body into his lap.

The kiss itself was enough to make Barbara breathless, her heart was beating faster and her mind was clouded with the amazement that was sucking on her lips. But now? Paired with the feeling of their hips grinding in sync? Barbara was about to lose it.

Jason moved his attention to the soft skin just beneath her jaw. He was nipping and sucking and licking along her jaw and Barbara's chest was heaving trying to catch her breath.

"Your bed," he said between kisses. "Or mine?"

Barbara's eyelids fluttered closed, her fingers toying with the hairs on the back of his neck and their chests pushing against each other. She considered herself to be incredibly strong and athletic compared to the average woman her age, but Jason was _so much_ stronger than her. Even Dick hadn't been this much stronger than her.

 _Please don't start thinking about Dick right now._

"Babs?" Jason whispered, pausing his assault on her neck to look at her face. "You still with me?"

She smiled, running her hands through his hair. He had his hands on her hips, just beneath her sweater. They were warm against her skin, rubbing gentle circles with his thumbs. "Jason," she said softly. His face dropped at the tone of her voice. "Are you sure?"

Jason smiled up at her again, moving his hips against hers. "Barbara I'm only going to ask one more time," he said. She smiled, biting her lip. She'd wanted this exact response, despite her own uncertainties. "My bed, or yours?"


	10. Chapter 10

"Hey, Brucie," Barbara hums, walking through the cave. The underground air is brisk against her bare shoulders, but it was refreshing. She'd been sweating all night in Jason's bed, the boy was a furnace.

A small smile played at her lips, remembering the expression on his sleeping face when she left him this morning. Crawling out from beneath his arm had been a chore (even just his limbs were unbelievably heavy, it seemed) and once she had, he sleepily reached around for her body. Partially out of sympathy, she handed him the pillow she'd been using and watched him cuddle that for a moment. His face took on a whole new light while he slept; no shields of sarcasm and snark, no anger. Just peaceful, blissful slumber.

The sound of Bruce's chair turning to watch her enter drew her attention back to the present. "Brucie?" he asked, confusion evident in his voice. "You never call me that."

Shrugging, she discarded his comment entirely. "I'm just here to update the Bat-top," she said, smiling as she set her bag down next to him on the desk.

Bruce smiled now, too, rolling his eyes as she handed him her laptop. "Not everything we have needs the word 'bat' in it," he mumbled. He looked at her from the side, still smiling as he reached for the appropriate cords. "We are capable of just calling things by their names."

Barbara crossed her arms looking down at her mentor. "Do as I say, not as I do, right Bruce?"

He turned away from her. "These updates will only take a moment, and Alfred put together a few new utility belts for you." His fingers began hurriedly tapping away on the keyboard, and the screen to her laptop lit up. "The smoke bombs have been upgraded, but everything else should be the same."

Mumbling a short 'k', she made her way to the stairs to retrieve the new tools. Keeping her gaze away from the glass cases, she fiddled with the belts laid out in a perfect row for her on the table. Bruce could be heard typing still, updating the security systems. They do this once a month at least, any time Wayne Enterprises comes up with some new technology that could be useful to them.

Pulling one of the smoke bombs out, she wondered what they'd done to upgrade them. Was the smoke denser? Did it take longer to disperse? Was it darker? Louder?

The black ball looked peculiar smooshed between her pale fingers. It was roughly the size of a quarter, but felt so much bigger than that. Temptation struck her, mingling with her curiosity. It'd be so easy to throw the smoke bomb onto the floor, just to see. Just as she raised her arm to drop the bomb, she noticed how deathly silent it had fallen in the cave. Bruce had stopped tapping his keyboard, and when she looked up they were making eye contact.

"You're in a good mood today," he observed, sounding both suspicious and loving all at once.

Barbara felt a flush growing in her cheeks as she quickly withdrew her hand, smoke bomb still in between her fingers. She gathered the belts in her arms and hurriedly made her way down the stairs. "What makes you say that?"

Now with his favorite freelancer in front of him, Bruce crossed his arms across his chest. He'd stood from his seat at the computer, and Barbara was once more reminded that all the boys she regularly hung around with towered over her. "You called me Brucie, you look well rested, and you've been humming _Hips Don't Lie_ for the past five minutes." He raised an eyebrow, looking over her now. "And your face is bright red. What happened?"

His voice was skeptical, analyzing her every movement. Suddenly his eyes on her felt very intrusive, and she felt her flush grow. "Nothing, Bruce," she said, folding into herself. "Are you done with my computer yet?"

The expression on his face grew more quizzical, more concerned. "You worked with the Red Hood last night, and then you went home?" His voice indicated he already knew the answer, but he wanted her confirmation. Something unusual for a man like Bruce, always so sure of himself.

"Yeah, Jason and I had a movie night and then I went to bed early for a change. Why?" It was only a partial lie, which might throw Bruce off her trail. As much as she cared about Bruce, she saw him as if he was a second father, and he was almost the last person on earth that she wanted to tell the details of her evening with Jason to. "Apparently, if you go to bed before 3 AM you feel really good the next day."

The expression on his face set into a hard line, and Barbara knew that he didn't believe her. Thankfully, he did not seem to want to press the matter any further. "You ought to be careful with Jason, Barbara," he said. His eyes flitted over her face, reading her expression which was almost certainly confused. "Just the other day you came in here with questions about him, concerned he was keeping secrets."

Barbara crossed her arms, irritation growing inside her. "Yeah, and you turned me away," she reminded him. "I ran my own tests on him, over and over again, but you wouldn't let me run one on this computer."

Bruce pursed his lips tightly for a moment, again examining her face. "I'm just telling you, Barbara. I don't want to see you get hurt." His face was hard as stone, expressionless. But the sincerity in his eyes burned in a way she'd only ever seen a handful of times. Despite the intensity in his blue irises, she could tell that he was still hiding something. "I have a board meeting at work in a bit, so I have to go," he said. "Your laptop should be done in a minute or two."

Without another word, Bruce was gone almost silently, leaving Barbara to ponder his words and the secrets that were being kept from her. Not only by Bruce, but Jason too. Ironically, it felt that the only one being even remotely honest with her anymore was the Red Hood.

Scooping the Bat-top into her arms, as well as her new utility belts, she left the cave feeling as if her good mood had been ruined.

Exiting the clock in the main hall of Wayne Manor, Barbara shuffled into the kitchen. She had the day off work and cooking with Alfred always cheered her up.

To her dismay, the kitchen seemed unusually empty. Sighing in discontent, Barbara put her things down on the island in the kitchen and began shuffling through the fridge for the ingredients to make herself a sandwich.

"What's a beautiful place like you doing in a girl like this?"

Barbara jumped at the sudden voice, slamming the refrigerator door shut to see Dick Grayson leaning against the counter behind it. He had on his usual cocky grin and his arms folded across his chest. He looked cool and smooth and Barbara rolled her eyes in annoyance, despite the small chuckle she gave him.

"What's a big dumb place like you doing in a dork like this?"

Dick laughed, lurching off the counter. "I came by to see Bruce. Is he around?"

Barbara pulled a plate out of the top cupboard and placed her bread on it. "Just missed him." Her tone was unintentionally bitter. She hadn't meant it to be, she wasn't mad at Dick. She was mad at Bruce, and herself, and Jason all at once. But not Dick.

"What's the matter with you?" Dick asked. He leaned backwards against the island next to her, once again crossing his arms. Despite his playful tone, she knew her best friend. He was being genuine in his questions.

Barbara put the half-made sandwich down and looked at him. Her face contorted into a million different emotions it seemed. So many things she wanted to say to Dick, but only one correct thing to say. "What do you know about the Red Hood?"

That's where it all began, wasn't it? Where all the lies and the secrets began. It would seem appropriate that it would end there as well. Things were usually complicated, but Barbara hadn't ever felt like she wasn't up to speed until the Red Hood came along. It was then that conversations hushed when she approached and Bruce hurried her off his computer and he gave her warnings without clarification. That's where it all began to get strange and confusing.

Dick looked surprised. "You're upset about a murderer?" he said, stealing a piece of lunch meat off her sandwich. "That seems normal."

Barbara's frown deepened. "No, I'm upset because Bruce set me up to work with someone and is refusing to give me all the information."

Dick's demeanor noticeably shifted. His muscles tensed up and his face hardened, as if he was trying too hard to appear casual. "Why would you think Bruce is keeping any of the information from you?"

"Because it's Bruce," she said, her bottom lip pouting out just a bit.

Again, her friend shifted uncomfortably next to her. She could see the gears in his head turning, trying to disprove her theory. After just a few moments he gave up, not able to find any reasons that Bruce would tell Barbara the whole truth on this. "Yeah," he said, his voice trailing off a bit.

Silence fell across the kitchen, with the exception of the sound of a sandwich being born. Tense moments passed, one focused on words while the other focused on lunch. "It just feels like everyone is in on this case, this big secret about some guy that _I_ am supposed to work with. But for some reason, everyone is keeping me out of the loop despite the fact that this _is_ _ **my**_ _case_!" she was angry now, waving a mayonnaise covered knife around as if to illustrate in the air the absurdity of it all.

Dick's eyebrows furrowed, temptation to reach out to her evident on his features. "I know how it feels," he murmured. "Don't worry, Babs. You of all people should know nothing is secret, and every case is crackable."

She turned to look at him, completed sandwich in hand. Pressing her hips into the counter behind her so as to face him, Barbara took a bite of her edible masterpiece and savored it before getting back to her friend. "You're right," she mumbled around the sandwich. "It's just annoying that he expects me to fix it with only half the information."

"Well," Dick said, relaxing his stance. He moved his hands to the countertop on either side of his hips. "I have some good news for you, then."

Barbara perked up a bit, smirking through her full mouth. "What's that, Pixie Boots?"

"Remember like six months ago when I introduced you to Tyler?" he asked, waving his hand in front of him as if it would bring forth Barbara's memories. "Well, I ran into him a few days ago at the library, and he told me that he and Jess broke up a couple months after you guys met. And he didn't say anything about you, but I remember you told me you thought he was cute, so-"

"Pass," Barbara said, taking another bite of sandwich.

Frozen mid-sentence, Dick's facial expression slowly shifted to become more and more bewildered. "Uh, why?" he asked.

Now smiling, and finishing off the last bite of her sandwich, Barbara looked at him. "I maybe got a little something," she said.

Dick's eyebrows raised, and his arms crossed once more. "Oh?" he said, egging her on. "And who might this lucky guy be?"

"Don't start planning the wedding yet, Grayson," Barbara said chuckling. "My roommate, Jason." If it were possible, his eyebrows went up even further, waiting for her to continue. "We were friends for a long time, internet friends, you know? And then he moved here and we just got closer. It was bound to happen, I guess."

"Oh," Dick said. His voice was a thick layer of calm, thoroughly masking the shock and the panic that Barbara could sense was there. "Well, good for you then." Barbara examined his face for a moment, searching for the chink in his armor that she knew was there. "I have to go, if you see Bruce sometime in the next day or two let him know I was looking for him okay?"

Barbara nodded. "Yeah, I'll see you later."

For the short amount of time that Dick had conversed with Barbara, he'd been tense, almost nervous. There were only a few reasons that could be. Her secondary phone started, shifting her focus from her best friend's secrets, screen lighting up with a text message.

 _Working tonight? -Your Favorite Vigilante_

As if her mood wasn't sour enough, thinking about having to spend any time with the source of all her struggles pulled her further down. Visibly frowning, she sent him a thumbs up and went home to prepare.


	11. Chapter 11

Jason was tired of meeting a stranger on a rooftop. Honestly, it was so cliché. He felt like the 'stereotype vigilante' at this point. He was especially tired of meeting this particular stranger on a rooftop. Batgirl was a pain in his ass that he wasn't fond of dealing with. She had a nagging voice and almost always seemed to be mad at him. In true Bat fashion, she had a knack for sucking the fun out of this already depressing work they did. It was like working with Bruce with boobs.

But she had all the useful resources that Bruce had, and that's why he promised to join forces. Resources which had progressed this case exponentially, but Jason had no plans of bringing that up to his favorite sidekick any time soon.

"Please make this quick," that familiar nagging voice said to him, followed by her boots clacking down on the rooftop behind him.

Jason frowned beneath the hood. "What's more important than sex trafficking, Batsy?"

Batgirl crossed her arms. He could tell she'd had a rough day, and almost immediately regretted asking her here. Her eyes were bloodshot and the worry lines in the corners of her eyes were more defined than usual. The muscles in her shoulders were as tight as coils and her lips were pressed into a hard line. "Don't start with me, you incompetent ass."

"Well that's just hurtful," Jason said, anger bubbling up in his chest. "My ass is very competent." Her eyes rolled in their sockets, and she turned to leave. "I had a lead," he called to her as she walked away.

Turning back towards him, she took two slow steps and waited for him to continue.

"A girl called GCPD today, said that her friend was picked up by some guy in a black Tahoe. They didn't flag it because the girl immediately hung up," he said. He moved closer to her, slowly closing the gap between them that she'd created.

"They must have assumed it was a prank call," Batgirl mused, her voice monotone and annoyed.

"Yeah I was getting to that." He stepped towards her once more, bringing the space between them to maybe six inches. "That was this morning, which means that if they're sticking to the current timeline, that girl has about two days before she's gone."

"Is that the only lead you have?" She said, holding out her hand like she was waiting for another piece of juicy information to just land in her gloved palm. "I already knew we were on a schedule. There were already 14 girls missing. This is hardly even a lead."

Jason crossed his arms, and this time it was him who turned away from her. Whatever had happened to Batgirl today, he didn't want to be a part of it even a little bit.

But then he could hear her following him.

"What? Did I hurt your feelings?" She asked, voice filled with rage. She was seething, coiled so tightly and so eager to start swinging. Jason couldn't help but feel like a punching bag in this moment.

He turned his head to look at her over his shoulder. "No, but you're obviously worked up about something else so I'm gonna just let you sort that out," he called. "You wouldn't want to say something that could screw up this incredibly functional partnership we have here."

Her footsteps behind him stopped, and so did he, turning to look at her. Folding his arms across his chest, he could feel the tension between them building, the weight of unspoken words on Batgirl's tongue.

"Tell me who you are," she demanded. Her tone was biting. The controlled threat she had the first time they met was gone, replaced by days of frustration. She was a bomb waiting to go off.

Jason laughed. Bombs didn't scare him these days, especially not the Batty ones. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

Somehow, some way, Batgirl's muscles tightened. Her eyebrows furrowed, Jason could see the temptation in her eyes. He wondered what Batman had told her about him. Not Robin Jason, but Red Hood Jason. Surely, he'd somehow explained things. Explained why, after Jason's post-revival murder spree, Batman didn't haul him off the Arkham, or why he didn't do it now but instead worked with him.

But then again, communication was never Bruce's strong point.

"How do you know Batman?" She asked, rather than answer his question.

"How do you?"

If Jason focused his hearing, the sound of her teeth cracking under the pressure could be heard. She was boiling with rage at this point, and he was tired of dealing with it.

"Look, Batsy, don't ask me any questions that you aren't prepared to answer yourself. So if that'll be all," he said, giving her a two finger salute as he started to turn on his heel to leave once more.

"What's your problem?" She asked. Again, Jason turned back around to face her. "You just show up in Batman's city and start tearing things up, and he just allows it? What makes you so much more special than Superman, or Green Lantern, or any other hero who sets foot in the city limits? I want to know what he sees in you other than an amateur who doesn't take this job seriously."

Finally fed up with her attitude, he turned and began walking away. " _Seriously_ ," he said, his tone cruel and mocking. "Call me when you're off your period and we can continue this case."

He didn't see the fist coming, but he felt the impact. It sent his head careening to the side and disoriented him long enough that he didn't see the next two blows either, and suddenly he was on the ground and Batgirl was straddling him. She punched him with either fist, consistently keeping his head turning. Despite the helmet's insulation, her blows were still making him dizzy and he couldn't focus enough to fight back.

She was screaming something that he couldn't hear, or maybe she was just screaming incoherently. But when his helmet began to crack he most definitely heard that.

His legs wrapped up around her shoulders, thrusting her backwards and slamming her hard against the rooftop. He stood up and felt his helmet. His fingers felt the cracked hole even through the gloves. It was above his left eye. Had it not been for Jason's drama inducing domino mask, his eye would've been completely exposed.

Switching his panicked gaze to his adversary, he noticed her surprised expression. Well, surprise hardly encompassed the look of horror on Batgirl's face. Gears were turning in her head, Jason could see them moving. Her eyes were wide and her mouth gaped open in shock.

Fear clutched his heart, fear that his broken helmet exposed more of his face than he'd anticipated and Batgirl was figuring it out. Fear that his slip up would be giving his opponent the upper hand. His almost-healed bullet wound burned, his head was pounding, and he was vulnerable. Fueled by his fear, Jason turned and sprinted toward the edge of the rooftop. Without hesitation, he jumped and swung away into the night, the last thing he saw was Batgirl on her knees, astonishingly still as she watched him flee.

 _ ************LINE BREAKER!************_

Barbara wasn't sure how long she'd been kneeling on the rooftop, trying to uncomplicate everything that had just transpired. Her knuckles were beginning to swell up inside her gloves. One could only punch a helmet so many times before they hurt themselves, even with armored gloves.

She'd not only punched it, she'd _broken_ it. And with the broken helmet, she might've finally cracked the case of the Red Hood.

The hole in the broken hood started just above his left eye. Had it not been for the red domino mask he wore, she would've seen his face. The crack stretched all the way up to his hairline, allowing a few tufts of hair to stick out. The silver hairs gave Barbara the insight to the man beneath the mask that she'd been searching for, and now she wasn't so certain that she wanted it.

Shaking her head in an attempt to rid herself of uncertainty, she activated the comm. unit in her cowl to contact Nightwing. He answered, sounding serious. He was on patrol, using his scary Nightwing voice.

"I need you," she said simply.

 _ ************LINE BREAKER!************_

"Babs!"

Barbara turned to look at the man who approached her. She'd sent him her coordinates and waited. The only movement she'd been able to accomplish while she waited was shifting from her knees to sitting with her legs dangling over the rooftop. They kicked lifelessly there, and she found herself remembering when they really were lifeless, and she hated them.

"Babs," he said again, closer this time. When Nightwing was within a few feet of her, she pushed herself onto her feet and turned to face him. "I came as fast as I could, what's wr-"

He was interrupted by her fist painfully colliding with his jaw. His body lurched to the side with the impact of the blow. He didn't allow himself to be disoriented, however, and caught her wrists the next time she tried to strike. " **What?!** " he shouted, holding her arms up to avoid being struck once more.

"You knew!" she screamed, lips curled into a snarl. "You knew I slept with him and you didn't say anything! You didn't tell me who he was!" Prying her wrists free, she began slapping him across the shoulders and chest, her bare palms hitting the thick Kevlar. "You're supposed to be my best friend and you didn't tell me anything about the person who _lives in my_ _ **house!**_ "

Dick flinched every time her hands slapped his armor, putting his own up in surrender. His jaw was red where she'd punched him, already swelling up. That'd be fun to explain to Bruce later. "Babs! Stop!" He shouted, grabbing her wrists again and looking at her hands. Her knuckles had swollen uncomfortably and she'd had to remove her own gloves to make sure they weren't broken. Nothing that wouldn't heal in a few hours' time.

Swollen, dark purple, and throbbing maybe, but not broken.

Barbara looked up at her best friend, tears welling in her eyes. There was no sadness behind these tears, only fury and frustration. Even beneath his domino mask, she could see the concern in his face.

"What happened?" he asked, his tone gentle and genuine and apologetic.

Barbara felt all the resentment that had built up over the past several days swell within her chest, ready to come pouring out. "I beat the Red Hood," she said simply, her voice cracking slightly. "I broke his helmet, I saw who he is. I know that you lied to me."

Dick looked down at her, his lips pursed into a tight line. She could feel the guilt pouring off him in waves, but that didn't matter. It all made sense now. Bruce's warning, Dick's behavior this morning, Jason's mysterious arm wound, the late nights, the unanswered questions, the way he'd dodged her knife the night before. All the tiny puzzle pieces came into place around the one big one she'd been missing.

"Jason Todd is the Red Hood," she murmured.

She'd said it a few times earlier, and it still didn't feel real. Jason had known her for years. She'd run countless background checks. No one could hide something like this. There was always a connection, and she hadn't found it. It was almost impossible that she'd missed something, so how had he done it? Had Bruce helped him? Was Dick in on it?

She looked back up at him, disgust on her face.

"Does he know that you know?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Barbara shook her head no, turning and going back to her place on the edge of the rooftop. "Are you going to tell him?" Dick followed her and sat down beside her (albeit, far enough away that she wouldn't be annoyed by his presence).

Barbara slouched, her arms holding her up against the rooftop.

Her roommate, Jason Todd, who she'd slept with the night before, was the Red Hood, a deadly vigilante whom she hated with a passion. Despite the fact that she'd figured it out, Jason didn't know that she was Batgirl, or even that she knew his secret identity.

How could she tell him that she discovered his secret, without revealing her own? How could she find out more about him while still maintaining the privacy of her teammates?

She couldn't.

Turning her gaze to look at her best friend, she sighed. Things were always complicated in Barbara Gordon's life, but this was a new breed of confusion. "Would you?" she asked.

Dick thought for a moment, looking out above the city while he contemplated. "I don't know how you could," he answered.

Barbara sighed dejectedly once more. "Get back to patrol. I have things to do," she said, standing. Dick followed suit, looking at her as if he had more to say, but no way to say it. Instead, he just squeezed her shoulder and ran back to where he'd come from.


	12. Chapter 12

Barbara sighed dejectedly. After she'd sent Dick away, she'd gone back to the Batcave in hopes that Bruce was there and would explain why he'd kept all this from her. But it was prime patrol time, and the Batman had bad guys to scare. She'd have to yell at him another day. In his absence, Barbara wanted nothing more than to go home and dive into the background checks she'd previously done, desperate to find the details she'd missed.

She had been wracking her brain since the moment she'd seen the white hair, trying to figure out how she didn't know. Once the pieces had started coming together, it became painfully obvious that Jason Todd was the Red Hood. And yet she still couldn't believe it.

Throughout their friendship, Jason had been very indirect with telling her where he lived. Saying that he 'traveled for school' or something along those lines. He'd picked a fake job that would be a good cover for the hours he worked as the Red Hood. It explained the incredible shape he was in, the weird sleeping habits, the way he'd avoided her knife before. Everything.

 _Jason Todd was the Red Hood._

She repeated it over and over again in her mind, but it still didn't seem right. Something was missing, she decided as she walked down the hallway towards her apartment.

Reluctantly sighing, she opened the door, ready to close herself off in her bedroom and focus.

That plan immediately flew out the window when she stepped inside to see Jason in the kitchen, over a pot of white sauce and a pan with cooking chicken. He looked up from his gourmet dish and smiled at her. "Hey," he said, moving around the bar towards her. Barbara forced a smile back, letting him wrap his arms around her and kiss her. "How was your day?"

She looked up into his face. His eyes were bright, glowing green, scrunched up with the size of his smile. That familiar tuft of white hair fell over the left eye, the way it always had. The way the Red Hood's had. He'd told her it had always grown that way, white at the front. Now, everything she knew about him seemed not real. All because of that white tuft of hair.

"Really long," she said, pulling herself out of his arms. Part of her wanted to scream at him that she knew his secret, but the more rational part knew how unrealistic that was. She wouldn't be able to explain how she knew, and she needed more details. She needed to know how he hid this from her for so long. "I'm so ready for bed."

The happy look on his face dropped for a mere second. "I'm sorry, Babs," he said, turning back towards his cooking. "I'm making dinner if you're hungry."

She pursed her lips together in that forced smile once more. Lying was the hardest part. "I'm not right now," she said, putting a hand on her stomach. The events of the day had her stomach churning, threatening to push away any food she forced into it. "Maybe after I change and stuff though. Thanks, Jay."

Before he could say another word, she hurried to her room. Her speed was probably suspicious, but she didn't care. Being in the room with him made her uncomfortable now. She wasn't sure who she was talking to. Which person was he really?

That was a question she'd been avoiding. But once she saw him and spoke to him, she knew she couldn't avoid it any longer. Who was he, Jason or the Red Hood?

It was possible that he was both, though unlikely. They were so different. Maybe that's why it was so hard to believe that Jason and the Red Hood were one in the same. The Red Hood was reckless and irresponsible and a _murderer_. But Jason was sweet and funny and gentle. Aside from body type, Barbara couldn't see many similarities.

Groaning with irritation, she threw herself face first into her bed and turned on her TV. When she hit the pillows, she found that she suddenly didn't have the energy to move, or even change the channel on the TV. Whatever sitcom was on would have to do until Barbara's eyelids drooped with exhaustion.

 _ ************LINE BREAKER!************_

She awoke to the sound of knocks on her bedroom door. Groggily turning to see Jason walking into her room, Barbara threw herself back into bed. "I am sleeping," she grumbled.

Jason chuckled. "What have you eaten today?" he asked, standing next to her bed. And it was then that Barbara smelled the amazing scents of Italian food wafting towards her, and realized she had not eaten hardly at all today. "I doubt you're not hungry, I know you used a lot of energy last night." Barbara could just imagine the smug look on his face.

Without answering his question, she turned over to look at him through narrowed eyes and sat up. He handed her a plate and a fork and sat down next to her on the bed. Barbara refrained from flinching, switching her view between Jason's face and the plate of chicken alfredo he'd handed her.

"Jay," she began, setting the plate down in her lap. "I don't want you to think this is a thing." His eyebrow raised quizzically at her words, a smirk playing at his lips. "I mean, just because we had sex doesn't mean that we're a thing. We're still just roommates, right?"

Jason chuckled lightly. "Yeah, Barb, I know that," he said, smiling at her. "But we are still friends and you still need to eat."

She smiled at him, feeling only slightly better about the tension in the room. Nonetheless, she picked up her plate once more and began engulfing the pasta he'd brought to her. Despite everything going on, Barbara could never claim Jason Todd wasn't a magnificent chef.

"What are you watching?" He asked, leaning back against the headboard, using his forearm as a pillow.

Through her bite of pasta, she responded "I wasn't. I was sleeping."

They laughed for a moment before Jason picked up the TV remote and turned on the guide. He flipped through channels for a few minutes before coming to rest on a murder documentary. Historically, it was Jason and Barbara's favorite thing to watch together. They'd make silly voices and backstories for the mug shots that appeared on screen and laugh about it for hours.

Barbara didn't think she had it in her to act like everything was normal with Jason after everything she'd found out, but it was almost too easy to fall into character with the silly voices. They laughed at the murderers and their accomplices for a few hours, well into the night until eventually Jason fell asleep, his head resting blissfully on Barbara's full stomach.

She rested her hand on his head, playing with the ebony hair along the base of his neck. The hours she'd spent with him watching these shows had been a relief. For that brief time, she'd forgotten who he really as, what he really did.

But as soon as the room fell silent, it all came crashing to the forefront of her mind like a semi-truck with no brakes. Soon, the sun would rise, bringing morning with it and a new day with the same problems. When would she tell him, she knew who he was, how would she tell him, how would he react. What would happen to their friendship?

Barbara was stuck there. Did she even want the friendship to continue? This friendship that had been built on lies. Jason, as a person, had meant so much to her. That much was true. But Jason, as a person, wasn't real. It was a façade he put up so that she wouldn't be able to see through him, so that she wouldn't see what he really was. Could she continue on in a friendship like that?

Every part of Barbara despised the Red Hood. There wasn't even a whispering voice anywhere in her mind that told her to give him a chance. So many times, she'd begged Bruce to let her bring him in. Good intentions aside, Red Hood was nothing more than another crime lord who murdered anyone in his way. Barbara couldn't overlook that about him.

But that was Jason.

Her friend, her roommate, whom she'd run extensive background checks on, was a murdering crime lord in her city. He was everything she opposed when she put on her own alter ego.

All of this melodramatic nonsense aside, there were still fifteen girls missing, and the unlikely duo was no closer to finding them. Barbara had been caught up in finding out the Red Hood's secret, figuring out who he was, focused on Jason. She hadn't put the proper amount of effort and concentration into finding those girls. If anything happened to them, it was on her.

Jason snored softly, his warm breath leaking through the fabric of her shirt onto her tummy. Despite everything, she smiled warmly looking down at him. Doubts and fear and stress plagued her mind, and those would all be there in the morning.

For now, Barbara wanted to sleep as soundly as her friend was.

 _ ************LINE BREKAER!************_

"Right on time," Jason said, checking an imaginary wrist watch. "That's unusual for us."

Batgirl rolled her eyes. It seemed that her mood had only _slightly_ improved from the previous night's encounter. Jason, however, was in a far worse mood today. He'd had to resort to using his spare helmet, which is the one he never wears. It's like wearing a new pair of shoes to run a marathon. It's just uncomfortable.

"Let's just get this over with," she said. Her eyes were fixated on him, the bloodshot bringing out the green in her irises. It was almost creepy. "We're running out of time."

Jason scoffed, annoyed. "So _now_ you're in a hurry to find them, but _yesterday_ -"

"I don't want to talk about yesterday." Her tone was vicious, cutting him off instantly. Her eyes were like daggers aimed at his throat. "I want to close this case, and get on with my life."

Jason crossed his arms. It wasn't often he found himself speechless, but here he was, nothing to retort to Batgirl's irritation. "Fine." He said, walking toward the edge of the rooftop. As he'd predicted, she followed him. "Since you were such a _peach_ yesterday, I'm assuming you didn't do any of the work last night?"

Batgirl's eyes widened for a moment, before she shook her head no. He could see the hint of shame on her face before he continued his speech.

"Well, since I got sent home early, I _did_ do some work." He jumped down onto the fire escape below, motioning for her to follow. "I have a very close contact, who shall remain anonymous. He keeps his ear to the pavement, that kinda stuff. I call him up last night, and he tells me that Louis Ramos has been buying technology from the same supplier as Jervis Tech."

Batgirl raised one eyebrow in confusion. "The Mad Hatter?" she asked.

"Bingo," he said, picking the lock on the window of the apartment they'd landed near. He ignored her questions and demands, instead going on with his explanation in his own way. "So, I figure that it's time we ask the main man himself, don't you?" He slides the window open and stands aside, gesturing for Batgirl to enter the apartment.

He can see her hesitation, but she cautiously moves toward the open window and climbs in. As Jason climbs in behind her, he hears her gasp softly.

Inside the nearly empty apartment, blindfolded and tied to a chair, sits Louis Ramos. His mouth is taped shut, but he still makes muffled noises in an attempt to call for help. Batgirl turns to look at him, fury in her eyes. "What did you do?" she demands.

"I separated him from his boys, that's what." Jason narrows his eyes at her, his own tone vicious now. "If you'll notice, I didn't hurt a hair on his precious little head. Bat standard hostage."

Batgirl looked back at the man struggling and looking blindly around the room. She pursed her lips into a narrow line, gears noticeably turning in her head. Finally, she looked back at Jason, a cautious but determined look in her eyes. "Well, start."

Jason was taken aback by her words, literally and figuratively. He found his tense body stance relaxed in confusion when she spoke. "Come again?" he asked.

"We're low on time, and so start hurting some hairs on his head. Get what you need, and let's go." Her words were clear, as was the underlying message in them. _Don't cross that line._ The threat that every member of the Bat clan had issued to him since his return from the other side. At least Batgirl had finally resorted to silent threats rather than long drawn out ones. It was a real time saver.

Smiling, Jason relaxed a little more. "I've been waiting for this since we started this case, Batsy," he said. Cracking his knuckles, Jason approached Ramos and removed his blindfold. The man's eyes widened upon looking up into the red helmet's permanently angry scowl. He looks over his shoulder one more time at Batgirl, making sure that she's not going to stop him. "Alright, Louis," he said, his voice a low rumble emanating from somewhere within his chest. "I'm going to give you exactly one chance to tell me what's happening to those girls you've been kidnapping before I ask you less nicely. Do you understand?"

Louis nodded frantically, fear obvious on his face. Jason was slightly disheartened by the other man's willingness to cooperate, but nevertheless removed the gag.

"I don't know nothing, man," Louis said. "I just deliver the girls, okay?"

Jason smiled. "Aw, Louis," he purred. "You couldn't just take my offer?" Confusion spread on the other man's face before Jason's powerful right hook came flying towards his face. Louis' cry of pain echoed through the empty apartment, gargled with blood collecting in his mouth. It oozed out between his lips as he cried up at Jason.

"Come on, man –"

Jason punched him once more. "I'm not your man," he spat, allowing a moment for Louis to sit up after that punch. "That's two chances that you've wasted, do you really want to waste another?"

Louis coughed and gagged, spitting his blood out onto the floor. He looked back up at Jason. His eyebrow had split and blood smeared down his face, trickling into his right eye and causing him to squint. Tears slowly rolled down his cheeks, mixing with the blood and carrying it further before it dried against his skin.

He stared up at his captor, pain contorting his expression. Jason stepped closer to him, pulling a Kris out with one hand and placing the other on the back of the chair. His figure loomed over Louis, shadowing the bound man. Very slowly, Jason dragged the edge of the blade along Louis' already bloodstained cheek. "I won't ask again," he whispered sweetly. "This is the last time you'll hear my voice. Tell me now, or things will get messier and messier until you come to your senses." Nearing his jawline with the knife, Jason swiped, leaving a shallow cut near his lip.

Louis winced in pain, his lower lip trembling. Jason could see the words in his mouth, ready to spill out.

Jason waited a moment for Louis to tell him what he wanted to know before he shrugged and looked at Batgirl. Swiftly he raised the knife above his head. Only then did Louis shout. "Wait!"

Frozen in mid-air, the tip of his Kris only inches away from Louis' thigh, Jason smiled beneath his helmet. "Yes, Louis? Do you have something you'd like to share with the group?"

Nodding frantically, Louis swore in Spanish under his breath before taking a shaky breath. "Yes, yes I know where the girls are." He looked over at Batgirl, patiently waiting with her arms crossed in the corner. "There's an old factory on Broadway and 67th. Used to pump out sneakers, you can't miss it. We've been dropping them off there."

Jason pulled his knife a few inches away, making Louis visibly relax. "Dropping them off for who?" He asked.

"A while back, we busted a Russian guy out of prison. Calls himself The Doctor. We get the girls, give them to him, he works his magic, and supposedly we're supposed to deliver them to the Italians." Louis looked once more at Batgirl, as if waiting for her to swoop in and save him. She remained unsettlingly still. "I didn't sign up for the job, my pops just put me in charge of it."

Jason leaned back, almost a full foot away from Louis now. "You 'supposedly' deliver them?" He asked. "Have you not delivered any yet?"

Louis shook his head. "No," he said frantically. "Doctor hasn't finished any yet. Keeps saying 'perfection takes time' or something," Louis spit blood once more, shivering slightly. "It's hard to understand him. His accent and all that."

Looking back at Batgirl, Jason pulled back from Louis and began circling him, twirling the Kris between his fingers as he did so. "What do you think, Bats? Do we have what we need?"

Batgirl stared at Louis, hatred in her eyes. Jason could see that she wanted to hurt him just as badly as he did. But even Jason wouldn't let her. They still needed him. Batgirl nodded slowly, reluctantly. She uncrossed her arms, placing her hands on her hips instead.

That was all the permission he needed.

Jason suddenly raised the knife and brought it down. _Hard_. It swiftly sliced through the duct tape that kept Louis in the chair, effectively freeing his hands. He stepped around the chair once more, bringing his face uncomfortably close to Louis'. "When you leave here, go tell them we're coming for them." With that, he and Batgirl exited the way they came, silently into the night.


	13. Chapter 13

"I still don't see why you let him go," Barbara sighed. The pair stood atop the roof of Jason's torture apartment. The man in question was leaning over the edge of the roof, looking down at the ground below him, seemingly ignoring Batgirl's musings. "We should've taken him in."

Jason didn't turn to look at her while he spoke. "When will you learn to trust me, Batsy?" he asked, his voice whimsical almost.

A certain kind of rage simmered beneath Barbara's words. "Hard to trust a faceless man, I guess," she grumbled.

"Well, start," he said, suddenly standing up. Still not turning to look at her, he fired his grapple gun. "We're following, and staking the place out." And with that he soared into the chilled night air, once more leaving Barbara confused and angry on a rooftop.

Sighing, she leaped off the rooftop and followed him, briefly spotting Louis' car as it roared down the street in front of them. Barbara had to admit, it was a pretty smart plan. Scare Louis into showing them the real evil layer, along with the Doctor, who would inevitably be there doing evil doctor things at this hour. Two birds and all that.

They swing from rooftop to rooftop, pulling themselves onto rooftops and sprinting before jumping once more into a brief freefall. For miles they followed the car. It was unlikely Louis knew he was being followed. He took a mostly straight path, turning only twice on the entire journey to the warehouse district. Barbara rolled her eyes.

Criminals were getting dumber and dumber, it seemed.

She watched the car come to a halt in the small parking lot of an average looking warehouse. There were a few moving trucks out front, and Batgirl made a mental note of the symbol for later research.

Red Hood had come to rest on another rooftop edge, peering carefully over the edge and watching the people below. Barbara joined him, pulling out a small pair of powerful binoculars.

Louis exited his car, followed by the driver and one more passenger. Using her binoculars, she photographed the faces of both new men until they entered the warehouse and it was just her and the mysterious man next to her once more.

"What's next in your master scheme, then?" she asked, putting the binoculars back in her utility belt. She sauntered over to an air conditioning unit and sat down on it, watching his movements carefully. With her newfound discovery about him, any trust they'd built up was thrown out the window.

"Now," he said, turning and also sitting on the ground. "We wait." He had planted himself on the ground, leaning on the fascia and facing Batgirl. Beneath his mask, she heard him chuckle. "You wanna know the worst part of wearing this helmet is?"

Despite herself, Barbara kept any snide remarks to herself. Instead, she raised an eyebrow expectantly, waiting for him to answer his own question.

"My face gets itchy."

Again despite herself, Barbara laughed. For all their differences, the Red Hood and Jason both had a sense of humor. It was a bit off putting. "You can take it off and scratch it then," she said.

"As always, I'll show you mine if you show me yours," he said.

Barbara smiled. "No need," she said. "I've seen yours and I was unimpressed."

He scoffed. "You barely saw anything," he said.

"I saw enough."

Her reply was too quick, she didn't give herself time to filter her words. She knew that the jig was up. He knew that she knew. A million lies and excuses were flying through her brain at a hundred miles per hour before he chuckled quietly to himself once more.

He reached up, releasing a latch on his helmet and removing it from his head. There was no domino mask covering his eyes this time, only his bright green eyes eerily shining at her through the darkness. "So the big Bat finally filled you in, huh?" he asked, scratching a spot on his chin. "I figured he wouldn't keep it from you forever, though I wouldn't put it past him. You know how he is about secrets." His voice sounded so much clearer now without the hard armor covering his mouth. He sounded like Jason, not the Red Hood.

Disgruntled, Barbara's mouth dropped open slightly. "No," she stammered. "I figured it out on my own."

Jason's eyebrows rose in surprise, and then his expression changed to one of mischief. "Oh," he began, lips slowly forming the word as if it tasted strange on his tongue. "So you don't _really_ know."

Batgirl was frustrated and confused, abruptly placed back where she started at unraveling the mystery of Jason Todd.

However, before she can open her mouth to speak, the trucks below them can be heard starting up. They both move back toward the ledge, eyes glued to the trucks. Men were piling into the trucks and several cars within the parking lot.

"They're moving shop," Barbara observed.

"Good thing we're here," he responded. "Something tells me we weren't going to be invited to the next party." As he spoke, he replaced the helmet over his face, muffling his voice once more. The trucks began driving away, followed shortly by the cars. "You investigate here, see if they forgot anything. I'll follow and send coordinates when I get there."

"Jason, that's not-" Her words were stopped short by the sounds of his footsteps as he ran away. "Wait! We shouldn't split up!" She called after him.

He either couldn't hear her or chose to ignore her as he sprinted away after the vans. It would be all too easy for Barbara to follow him, but she knew he was right. If they left any clues in the warehouse below, they would be back soon to clean up after themselves. She needed to get in now and see what she could find.

Then she could follow.

Barbara leapt over the edge of the rooftop, flying for a brief second before grappling up towards the other roof. She'd spotted and AC vent from her and Jason's perch and knew she could sneak in that way. The insides of the warehouse were unknown to Barbara, and while it appeared that everyone had vacated, she couldn't just rush in without being certain.

Silently creeping through the upper levels of the warehouse, Barbara found a vent which granted her access to the main room. She trained her eyes and ears, searching for any sign that the warehouse was otherwise occupied.

She heard a slow and steady drip, one droplet every thirty seconds or so. Probably a leaky pipe somewhere. The entire warehouse creaked to life, signaling the heater turning itself on. There was wind pushing against the metal sides, groaning against the pressure. But, aside from these subtle sounds, the warehouse showed no sign of life.

Deciding the coast was clear, Barbara pushed open the vent grate and crawled out into the room. When she'd entered the warehouse, she'd been expecting the usual abandoned mess. But she got something entirely different.

The warehouse was spotless. It even looked as if they'd mopped the floors. The interior gleamed with a pristine newness that Barbara had never seen within Gotham city limits before. A strong lemon scent wafted through the stagnant air. Every piece of equipment had been picked up and efficiently moved. The floor had no scuff marks from shoes or trucks or tables. The only shred of evidence they had that anyone had ever set foot in this warehouse was a lidded container sitting in the middle of an otherwise empty floor.

The container appeared mostly plain. Just a beaker with a cork lid and a small slip of paper stuck to it. It didn't get interesting until Barbara shifted her focus to what was within the beaker: a dark red, bubbling liquid.

She picked it up, analyzing it through the glass. It was the color of blood, but the consistency of soda. From one of her many pockets, she pulled out a cotton swab. The beaker sizzled when she removed the cork, but the liquid remained calm.

Until she dunked the Q-tip in it.

It exploded into bursts of tiny bubbles, overflowing with foam. The scent that bombarded her nose was a familiar one that sent chills down Barbara's spine. An icy cold hand gripped her heart with fear, but still, she could not place that scent. Shaking it off, she put the cotton swab into her gauntlet, knowing that whatever it was would show up on the chemical analyses.

The computer within her suit shirred to life as it processed the soaked Q-tip, searching the database for the chemicals. The search would undoubtedly take a few moments, and Barbara used these moments to finish examining the warehouse.

The note stuck to the beaker was now soaked through completely after the liquid had overflowed, but the words scribbled across it were still visible.

 _Only 50%_

"Well that's vague and ominous," Barbara said dryly, heading toward the door of the warehouse. She tapped her radio, buzzing her makeshift partner. "Where are you?"

No answer.

It was probable that he was attempting to infiltrate their new location, and couldn't speak at the moment. Verbally communicating, and risking a firefight with those girls in harms way wasn't worth it.

Especially not when Barbara could easily just track his communicator (maybe he didn't know she could do that, but Barbara couldn't find the downside).

As she pulled up his location on her tablet, her arm buzzed with a notification. The analyses was complete. She began walking toward his red dot on the map as well as opening the results to look at them. The compound's molecular structure appeared on screen before her. It flashed green, signaling a 100% match.

Barbara's eyes widened in fear, as suddenly the memories came rushing back to her. "The toxin left for her was a match for an early version of Scarecrow's Fear Toxin.

 _Only 50%_

The Doctor had known they were watching, and had been counting on them splitting up. He'd set a trap, and they fell into it perfectly. More frantic now, Barbara pressed against her comm.

"Red Hood, this is Batgirl. Fall back." Her voice was firm, almost completely masking her panic. She broke into a sprint, racing toward the red dot on her screen. Feet flew over rooftops, but Jason still hadn't responded.

Breathless now, Barbara jammed a shaky finger into her ear. "Red Hood, this is a Code Black! **Fall back!** "

She was still at least a mile away from his blinking red dot, and even at her top speed it would take several minutes to reach him. As rooftop after rooftop fell away beneath her feet, Jason still hadn't responded. Barbara once again pressed her radio. "Dammit Jason, _**DO NOT GO IN!**_ **"**

Her lungs burned, but she held her breath. Over her own heartbeat pounding in her ears, and the sound of the wind pushing against her sprinting form, Batgirl could just barely hear breathing on the other end of the line. "Jason?" she whispered, slowing to a halt. "Red Hood," her voice was shaky with pants, but her tone was smooth. "This is a Code Black. I need you to answer me."

The breathing was louder now, cementing Barbara's certainty that _someone_ was on the other line. "Don't go in," she said, frozen in place.

The breathing was slow, calm even. As if he was allowing Barbara to hear his breaths deliberately. Each breath was roughly one second in, one second pause, another second out. Relaxed breathing. It could be Jason, if he were unconscious. Jason's average breathing rate was much faster than his unconscious one. The more likely option was also the far more sinister one.

The sound of wet lips smacking could be heard over the radio, as well as a few bangs. "Too late."

 _ ************LINE BREAKER!************_

 **Very sorry about the slow updates guys. It's been crazy with two jobs and school and all that jazz. Next chapter will be up shortly. Don't give up on me yet!**

 **~C.G**


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